


Twilight over Laketon

by EruErufu1



Category: Fate/Apocrypha, Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night (Visual Novel), Fate/stay night - All Media Types, Fate/stay night: Heaven's Feel (Anime 2017)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Holy Grail War (Fate), Route: Heaven's Feel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-03-13 11:05:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18939664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EruErufu1/pseuds/EruErufu1
Summary: Seven magi, seven Servants, seven wishes for the Holy Grail. Sixteen years after the conclusion of the Fifth Heaven's Feel, a new Holy Grail War is brewing in the United States. But, as with all Grail Wars, everything is not as it first seems.





	1. Prelude to War

**Author's Note:**

> First fic I'm actually going to publish to a site. Feel free to criticize all you want, because this likely needs a LOT of criticism.
> 
> I wanted to make a Grail War inspired by the original FSN and Fate/Zero, as it feels like with every year Nasu moves the franchise further and further from its roots of "Seven Masters... around Seven Servants." I'm going to try for a smaller cast, as Fate/Apocrypha suffered from the pitfall of shoving tons of famous historical figures into the War and neglecting most of both them and their relationship with the Masters. Yes, I am still salty that Kairi and Mordred got like no screentime.
> 
> Anyways, let's get this show on the road!

_In the watery abyss, She opened her eyes._

_Her home was filthy, but that could be fixed easily. How, she didn't know. Just that She could fix it as easily as flexing a muscle._

_Her home sanitized, She began to look inward. Who was She? Why was She here?_

_**Gather mana.** _

_A voice spoke into her mind. She questioned it. Why should She gather mana for someone she didn't even know? Some dim part of her mind noted the familiarity with the term "mana," but filed it away as unimportant for the moment._

_**Gather mana.** _

_The directive was more focused. She felt her spiritual body shudder at its orders. One final time She voiced herself. Begged the voice that commanded her who it was. Who She was._

_**Gather mana.** _

_She resigned herself to the forceful directive, letting her mind numb. Slowly but surely, the mana gathered._

_Time began to pass. Days became years…_

-xxx-

**1: Prelude to War**

Saturday, January 25, 2020

Day 1

Elbrecht Cottage, Laketon, New York

Laketon in the winter was a dreary affair. Ontario's lake-effect insured that grey clouds loomed eternally over the landscape, casting a shadow over snowy countryside. And in that dreary, bleak world two small children laughed as they tossed snowballs at one another.

Safiya von Elbrecht smiled as her two youngest adopted children played in the snow. Watching from her screened porch, she sipped at her mug of coffee, pulling the coat around her tighter. Magus or not, the half-Persian wasn't the young woman she once was. The cold affected her much more than she'd care to admit.

Hearing the door open, Safiya turned her head away just as Ryan managed to score a hit on Julia; the girl pouting in indignation. In the doorway stood Safiya's eldest, Karen, with her usual serious expression. "Mother, Uncle Kyle is here to see you."

Safiya's expression brightened considerably. While not actually her brother, the young man was a favorite student of hers. Something of a protege from her years as a Clocktower professor, Kyle's visits had become much less frequent as of late. Understandable, given his… unfortunate circumstances.

Smiling at Karen, Safiya nodded. "Tell him where I am. I can't wait to catch up with the lad. Haven't seen him in nearly a year now." Safiya's eyes widened a tad. "Has it really been that long, now…?"

Nodding in return, Karen shut the door to the porch. _'God, it really has been a year now hasn't it?'_ she mused to herself. Kyle had looked positively haggard on their last meeting, still in the grip of despair even two years since his fiance's accident.

Screen door opening, a handsome young man stepped out onto it. Seeing his old teacher, a small smile grew on Kyle's face. Holding out his hand, he spoke; "Professor. Apologies for the long absence." In the background, the tea kettle began to whistle; Karen moving to turn the burner off.

Rolling her eyes, Safiya stood and pulled Kyle into a tight hug. "Oh don't 'professor' me, Kyle. My kids call you 'uncle' for God's sake!"

Surprised by the gesture, Kyle took a moment to return the hug; though his response held much the same affection as his professor's. "Of course, Safi. Again, my apologies."

As she parted from the young man, Safiya waved off his apology and took a seat. Once settled in, the middle-aged woman motioned for Kyle to do the same. After he did so, Safiya continued. "It's good to see you again after so long. Ryan in particular has been asking about you for some time now." Safiya chuckle. "And who can blame the boy, trapped as he is in a household of women." The child in question let out a cry of victory, evidently victorious in whatever game he was playing with Julia.

Kyle fidgeted nervously in his seat, recognizing his former professor's words for what they were: yet another attempt to get him to move in with them. "I'll have to join their game before I leave." he said, glancing out at Safiya's two youngest as they played in the snow. His smile grew at the sight, before dimming. "I'm afraid I'm here on business, Safi."

Safiya cocked her head, pausing for a moment as the screen door opened. Karen stepped out onto the deck with two cups of tea, placing one before each of the adults. "Business? Last I checked Laketon is a backwater in the Moonlit World." she asked, genuinely curious as to what Kyle was up to over the past year.

Kyle gave Safiya a look of disbelief. "You really have disconnected from Clock Tower if you haven't heard the rumors. The Smithsonian hasn't exactly been subtle in letting everyone know about their pet project."

Safiya's blood ran cold as her thoughts drifted to her three children. Any "pet project" a Moonlit World organization conducted was bound to be bad news for the unfortunate locals at ground zero. Idly, her thoughts drifted to something that'd been in the news a lot in recent months. "Ontario suddenly clearing up."

Kyle nodded. "The lack of pollution in the great lake was an unintended side effect of their real project." Taking a deep breath, the magus continued. "I don't know how they did it, but the Americans have started a Heaven's Feel ritual."

Silence reigned for several moments as Kyle's words hung in the air; a silence eventually broken by a vengeful cry from Julia in the yard as she achieved her payback. Safiya's face was set in a stony expression. "Are you certain?"

Kyle held up his hand, pulling off the leather glove. Beneath lay-

_Big Ben tolled far above the two mages, crowds of young magi rushing by to their next class. Bazett pulled off her glove, revealing her Command Spells to Safiya. "I can do it, Safi. I can give the Child of Light a better ending!"_

-three Command Spells, engraved in red on his hand.

"We need to get rid of those. Now." Safiya spoke firmly as she rose to her feet. "My workshop is under the house. I have the tools for it on hand as well."

Kyle remained seated, expression unyielding resolute. "I'm fighting in the Grail War, Safi."

_A flash of burgundy hair, hand raised in the air as she bade Safiya farewell._

" _Don't worry, Safi! The next time you see me I'll have God's Chalice in hand!"_

"I know I can win-"

"And I know you're going to get yourself killed!" Safiya cut in, anger set on her face. "Grail Wars are where magi go to _die_ , Kyle. Better magi than you thought themselves ready and are now rotting in their graves; if they were lucky!" Her jaw clenched, fist doing the same. "I won't lose anybody else to that cursed ritual, Kyle."

Kyle looked away, out at Ryan and Julia. The two children had stopped playing, now staring at the adults with worry and fear in their eyes; frightened by their mother's yelling. From the window, Karen did the same; though she was better at hiding it in the guise of preparing lunch.

Standing, Kyle closed his eyes. "I have to bring her back, Safi. I owe her for-"

"You're a fool if you think this is what she'd want!" Safiya interrupted for a second time. "Hayley would want you to live a long and happy life; _far_ away from that death match."

Kyle shook his head. "I know. But I still have to try regardless." With that said, he turned to leave. "I came to make sure you knew so that you could make your own preparations. I know how you feel about the Heaven's Feel, and I doubt you want the kids getting caught up in it."

Safiya paused at that. In her fit of emotion, she'd overlooked the fact that the Grail War was occuring right in her figurative backyard. "Wait!" Safiya cried out. "I… I have something for you."

Heading to the cellar, kept painstakingly clear of groundwater via magecraft, Safiya placed her hand on the brick wall on the far end. Activating her circuits for the briefest of moments, the bricks slid aside to admit her entry. The locking mechanism was a simple one for magi, keyed to respond only to Safiya and Karen's od.

A rush of mana-rich air hit Safiya's face as the entryway opened, her workshop lying within. Sprinting past preserved beasts and dusty tomes, Safiya made a beeline for the gem-encrusted box on the Victorian-era desk. Far from being simply for show, the box was a Mystic Code unto itself; meant to shield its contents from the passing of ages.

The locking mechanism on the box was _far_ more complex than the entryway to her workshop, but Safiya opened it with practiced precision. Sealing the box and her workshop once more, the aging magus returned to find Kyle waiting patiently in the kitchen.

Walking up to Kyle with a serious expression on her face, Safiya held out her hand. Once Kyle did the same, she placed the contents of the box into his hand. Gazing down at the sliver of gold resting in his palm, he cocked his head.

"A catalyst." Safiya answered. "It's a… very old family heirloom that my mother's family acquired shortly before the turn of the first millenium. My ancestors stole it from some Mesopotamian ruins; or so the family legend goes." Safiya smiled sadly, trying her best to not think about the death sentence she was condemning her former student to. "My mother told me it belonged to humanity's oldest hero, King Gilgamesh."

Kyle stared down at the sliver of gold with an awestruck expression. "Safi… I can't thank you enough for this."

Safiya took a step forward, enveloping Kyle in a tight hug. "You shouldn't thank me, Kyle."

' _After all.'_ Safiya thought to herself. _'I've all but damned you to a terrible fate.'_

-xxx-

Friday, January 17, 2020

8 days before the War

London, England

Friday evening in London was, like most evenings in London, a cloudy and dreary affair. However, the Emiya family apartment gave off a sense of home that seemed to counteract the outside world. The faint fragrance of Far-East spices, the new perfume Sakura had been sampling as of late, and, most overpowering at the moment for Rin Tohsaka, the smell of applesauce.

"C'mon Kumiko." Rin complained to her sister's infant child. "Be a good girl and eat the food." Rin waited for a moment. "Please?"

Kumiko continued her wailing unabated even as the next-door neighbor knocked on the wall; a cry for silence. Rin's eyebrow twitched. "Oi, don't make me come over there." she slapped her spoon-holding hand against her face, careful not to spill the applesauce. "God, I hope I never have kids of my own."

The front door jingled as it opened, a woman with long hair of an unnatural shade stepping through with her eyebrow raised. Rin thanked all the angels in Heaven for sending a savior. "Oh thank God, Medusa. Kumi-chan's been crying for the past hour and I don't know how to get her to eat dinner and that God forsaken asshole next door keeps-"

Medusa rolled her eyes, interrupting Rin's tirade as she took Rin's niece into her own arms. Rocking the infant back and forth, the Servant silenced the infant with no shortage of cooing.

As Kumiko began to smile, blowing bubbles of spittle, Rin sensed her chance. Gently lowering the spoon of applesauce to Kumiko's lips, it entered her niece's mouth unhindered.

The young infant let out a cry of pleasure at the applesauce, clearly enjoying the doting of her aunts. Medusa gave Rin a faint smirk. "It seems that I'm the favorite aunt." she teased, voice low to not upset Kumiko once again.

Spooning another round of applesauce into her niece's mouth, Rin suppressed a groan. "Please don't start that nonsense again. It's not my fault I can't be around as much as Auntie Rider. One of us has a job, after all."

The Servant snorted, an action that caused Kumiko to begin to sob once again. After several more rounds of cooing, rocking, and applesauce, Medusa finally responded. "Something I'll never get over, by the way. The great scion of the Tohsaka family forced to use her gemcraft to work as a mundane diamond cutter."

Rin's eye-twitched at the Servant's jibe, earning a round of muffled laughter from Medusa. "Not my fault that fake priest spent my family's fortune on nonsense."

Medusa's giggles continued for several seconds, and towards the end even Rin had a small smile on her face. The two fell silent for several minutes as Rin continued to occasionally spoon applesauce into Kumiko's waiting mouth.

Flicking on the news station, Rin muted it and tapped the subtitles on. The announcer was yammering on about the latest hot topic: the miraculous cleansing of Lake Ontario's pollution. Medusa and Rin cringed as they read the scrawling subtitles, both well aware that America's Smithsonian Institute had made it the site of their Greater Grail.

"I'm glad Shirou found the time to take Sakura out. The two have been preoccupied with their careers as of late." Medusa said as Rin spooned the last of the applesauce into Kumiko's waiting mouth. The Servant patted her niece on the back, and she the expected burp as a reward. "They've finally found the time to be happy."

On the TV was a reporter live at one of the great lake's beaches, ranting and raving about what a godsend this was for the wildlife. Rin suppressed a second cringe, her eyes traveling down to the familiar hoops of her Command Seals. They'd appeared a few days prior, much to the dismay of Shirou and Sakura. "I know what you're trying to do, Medusa. You won't be able to stop me. My sister and Shirou have already tried and failed."

In the corner of the room lay two falchions, one pristine white and the other a checkered black, slowly and steadily vanishing into their base prana. Likely a product of Shirou's early Projection training, but for Rin the twin swords brought her back to a night long past.

_The forest was a disaster area, trees charred and upended while the creek's blackened water had been blown away by the blast. Barely conscious, Rin felt a hand touch her head, brushing a lock of hair away._

" _Take care, Tohsaka."_

The way ahead would be long and arduous, but everything was in a way. Grail Wars, Rin thought to herself, were gruelling and bloody affairs. But knowing now from Shirou the identity of the man that fought beside her and saved her life; knowing everything that he suffered through as a Counter Guardian...

"It's about time somebody saved you, Archer."

-xxx-

Saturday, January 25, 2020

Day 1

Laketon's Main Street

The Fifty-Stars cafe was a rather popular hangout spot for the residents of Laketon, and its current state reflected that. With the dinner rush in full swing, waiters sped to and fro as they took the orders of increasingly impatient customers. A particularly irate woman was the most notable; currently dressing down the waiter unfortunate enough to work her table.

All these factors combined made it the prime location for denizens of the Moonlit world to meet; as the anonymity the boisterous, crowded cafe shielded them from prying ears.

A young man clad in a navy blue suit leveled a glare on the back of the woman's head, clicking his tongue. "I see decorum is yet another thing that's failed to survive the ages." he remarked with a huff, taking another sip of black tea.

The man across from him, a middle-aged gentleman with graying black hair to match his dark suit, chuckled nervously. "I assure you, Ruler, that this is but a small microcosm of modern American culture." The man paused a moment to take a sip from his mug of coffee. "Plenty of decorum still exists in our nation."

The unfortunate waiter finally broke away from the irate woman, making his way back to a group of coworkers with understanding, if a tad smug, grins. A particularly plump man, likely the supervisor, gave the waiter a pat on the back and an apologetic smile.

Ruler nodded in approval. "At least camaraderie still exists. I was beginning to worry the modern era was naught but selfish, depraved individuals." His earlier frown became more subdued as he took another sip. "Speaking of selfish, depraved individuals, what is it you wished to discuss, Yates?"

The man across from Ruler, Gregory Yates, narrowed his eyes. "I assure you, Ruler, that the Smithsonian is far from selfish. The moonlit world is a terrible, dangerous place. The Federal Institute of Thaumaturgical Studies was founded to give America a chance against the established powers."

The door to the cafe opened a second later, a group of teenagers strolling in and taking seats. Talking jubilantly amongst themselves, a small smile graced Ruler's features. "Tell me then, Yates, what are the names of those children?"

Gregory cocked his head. "Why would I know their names?"

As one of the young lads gave his girlfriend a peck on the cheek, Ruler turned back to Gregory. "Aye, that would be the answer I would give. The answer any respectable person would give." Ruler reached into his suitcase, pulling out a thick manilla folder and tossing it onto the table. "Yet when you give the same answer, tis a lie. Tell me, Gregory Yates, why do you have such _thorough_ records on my citizens. My innocent, uninvolved citizens."

For Gregory alone, the temperature of the room seemed to drop ten degrees. "Where did you find such a record, Ruler? I assure you that the Smithsonian-"

The cold metal of a firearm barrel pressed against Gregory's leg. "I fancy myself a gentleman, Yates, but you're making it rather hard for me to keep up the dedication. I recovered this from your little saferoom in the courthouse. I have not been twiddling my thumbs for the past week, Yates."

Relenting, Gregory did his best to not panic in the face of the Servant. "We simply thought it would be prudent to investigate for potential Masters or political dissidents. We wouldn't want any… unneeded disruptions in the Heaven's Feel Ritual."

"That is my job, Yates, not yours. See that your magi do not let it happen again." The cool metal's touch vanished into a cloud of prana. "Now that I've made myself clear, let us return to the topic at hand. What is it you wished to discuss, Yates?"

The nonchalant manner in which Ruler returned to his tea was surprising to Gregory, but in retrospect, he thought to himself, it should not have. Not given who he was dealing with. "The Smithsonian wishes to extend an offer to you, Ruler. As the government itself… failed to acquire a Master for the Ritual we need a Servant in order to use the Lesser Grail once its absorbed the souls of the seven heroes."

Gregory took his glasses off for a moment as he wiped the droplets of nervous sweat stuck to them on his shirt. "To put the bottom line up front, so to speak, we need you to help us use the Grail as a mana reservoir. With that sort of power, America's dominance in the world would be assured."

Ruler's teacup clinked as it was gently placed back on the saucer, the Servant's expression blank. "Foolish."

Gregory blinked. "Come again?" he asked, honest confusion in his voice.

Ruler's eyes blazed with anger as his temper flared. "I called you foolish, Yates. Not only do you imbeciles seek to undermine the rules _you_ set by attempting to collude with the _impartial referee_ , you wish to use the false Chalice of God in order to oppress my people? That, Yates, is what I find foolish. Perhaps 'moronic' would work just as well. That modern word seems to fit you quite well."

"We never said we would oppress American citi-"

All heads in the cafe turned to their table as Ruler stood, the assembled patrons falling silent. "Forgive me for not believing you after I found your little dossier, Yates. This meeting is over."

The curious eyes of the cafe's patrons watched the Servant go, though once he was gone they swiftly lost interest, returning to their own conversations. Leaning back in his chair, Gregory sighed.

"My boss is gonna kill me."

-xxx-

Saturday, January 25, 2020

Night 1

Elbrecht Cottage, Laketon

Despite the dreary weather outdoors, the Elbrecht cottage was filled to the brim with life. The two youngest children, Ryan and Julia, chased one another through the various rooms with their toy swords in hand. In the kitchen, Safiya worked her way through El Melloi II's latest treatise on magus education while Karen washed the dishes.

Noticing the cover of the book, Karen cleared her throat. "No." Safiya's reply was instantaneous.

The fourteen year old's expression grew strained. "But Mother, I know for a fact I could get tutelage at the Clock Tower. With the Elbrecht name I could even get El-Melloi II to take me as a student!"

Safiya sighed as she closed the treatise, though not before she insured her page was marked. "Clock Tower isn't like normal college, Karen. Impressing people is important, but if a magus finds you too impressive you may not wake up one morning." As Karen started to voice a complaint, Safiya interrupted. "And that's _if_ they have the common decency to not dissect you while you still draw breath."

Karen's expression grew strained, her pale skin drawn into a tight frown. "I know my origin is unique, Mother, but-"

"Karen, I can name ten magi off the top of my head that would dissect you the instant they knew you existed. No means no, and that's final."

A whistle of air cut through the room, causing Safiya to look up. Karen had swung a glass towards the wall with the intent of breaking it, only to stop at the last second. Thought she didn't want to undermine her argument by voicing praise at the moment, Safiya felt a small swell of pride that her daughter was mature enough to not follow through with a temper tantrum.

"Mother, I…" Karen froze, and a half-second later Safiya as well.

Around the Elbrecht's estate was a three-layered Bounded Field. The first was a simple alarm, meant to alert the two Elbrecht magi of an unauthorized intruder. The second was a more advanced version of the alarm, meant to only trigger if a being with elevated prana levels, usually a magus, passed through. The third activated in response to the first, paralyzing the magus in place long enough for Safiya to investigate the disturbance.

The first two alarms had triggered, as did the third… for a mere second before it vanished.

That should have been an impossible feat for even a journeyman magi. Safiya's earlier conversation with Kyle slipped to the forefront of her mind. "Karen, get your siblings into the workshop and stay there. I'll come get you when it's safe."

Karen looked as though she wished to object, but said nothing as she saw the look in her mother's eyes. Karen's own expression hardened as she nodded. "Be safe, Mother."

With a quick squeeze of her mother's hand, Karen sprinted off to get Ryan and Julia. Safiya, now standing, grabbed her cane and screwed off the jeweled top, revealing the tip of her Mystic Code beneath. It was a simple Mystic Code, barely qualifying as it was naught but a mundane contraption enhanced with Reinforcement, but it got the job done.

Safiya heard the door to the basement close, and an instant later the lights in the cottage went out. "Cutting the power lines? What a rude guest." she murmured to herself.

"How humorous." a silken voice echoed behind Safiya. "My sister used to say the same thing."

Safiya ducked on instinct, barely dodging the surge of black magic as it pulsed through the area she once occupied and vaporized a fair portion of the kitchen.

The visage of a woman floated a foot off the ground, skin pale and face veiled in the same cloth as her black outfit. "The guest portion, I mean. We didn't have power lines back then, of course."

Safiya aimed her cane at the woman, a mist of water sprayed out as if launched from a spray bottle. Her magic crest activated, and the water converged on the same point.

The unknown woman giggled. "Proficient in jester magecraft, are we?" she asked.

Her only reply was an explosion of heat and pressure from where the water had converged. The woman was thrown against the wall by the blast, grunting as her back impacted the bricks. Safiya smirked. "Implosion magecraft, actually." As she fired another volley, Safiya spoke again. "Judging by the enormous amounts of prana flowing through you and that frankly ridiculous outfit, I'd hazard a guess that you're a Servant?"

With a flutter of the woman's cape, a sigil of black magecraft shielded her from the second blast. Internally, Safiya relished at the annoyed expression on the Servant's face. _'Looks like I've still got it in me!'_

A sinister smirk spread on the Servant's face as she stood up, a quick hop placing her floating in the air once again. "How astute of you, hedgemage. What gave it away? The intense amount of prana or the expert handling of power you can only dream of?"

Suppressing the urge of cough as the Servant's takeoff kicked up a cloud of vaporized drywall, Safiya dove to the left as a blast of magic shot through the place she'd just been crouching in. "I believe I already said it was your silly outfit, _Caster_." Rolling to absorb the impact, Safiya's circuits burned as she channeled prana into the Nordic runes on her suit. Body now reinforced with strengthening runes, Safiya leapt across the kitchen as another blast of magecraft shot past, demolishing the family room. Midair, she held out her cane. _"Scatter!"_

The mist shot from her cane, the quick aria activating one of the many spells stored in her family crest. As the mist surrounded Caster, the molecules condensed into six smaller implosions rather than one large one. Caster's gold eyes widened behind her veil, and moved to cast another shield-

Six concussive explosions of heat and pressure erupted around Caster, driving her to her knees as blood leaked from her ears and skin bruised. Eyes wide with surprise and panic, she took flight in the opposite direction. A wide grin spread on Safiya's face as she kicked off the ground into a sprint. "Lesson one of the modern world, young lady: never underestimate an Enforcer."

Caster's look of panic melted away into a smug grin of victory, and all of Safiya's senses screamed to move. Flipping her foot to skid to a stop, Safiya mentally cursed at herself as a black sigil crackling with power appeared beneath her feet. _'Fuck! I was overconfident.'_

The smell of ozone and smoke filled her nose as the sigil erupted beneath her, Safiya's body unceremoniously tossed backwards and straight through the drywall, blood flowing freely from the lacerations along her entire body. Body engulfed in pain, Safiya found herself in the foyer. Trying to stand, her legs screamed in protest, muscles torn and rune-laden clothing torn to shreds. _'If it wasn't for my suit, I likely would have died.'_ Safiya thought to herself, the sobering thought helping her to think through the pain as the adrenaline did its work.

"First rule of a Grail War, hedgemage." Caster's voice echoes from the kitchen. "Never try to beat a Caster at her own game." A distant "clack" told Safiya that the Servant had landed, the distant footsteps slowly growing closer.

 _'She's underestimating me. Good, that gives me time to prepare something. But what?What can I possibly do to stop a Servant-'_ Safiya would have smacked herself in the face had it already not been in unimaginable pain.

Right hand moving to her chest, she grunted in pain as her arm protested the action and her chest wound grew aggravated. Quickly soaking her hand in her own blood, she let her hand fall to the floor, hissing as the chest wound was exposed to air once more.

As quickly as she could manage, Safiya began to draw a simple ritual circle on the floor, blood-laden finger screaming in protest as it cut itself on debris.

-xxx-

Healing her ears with a spell, Caster continued her advance on the hedgemage-sized hole in the wall, deliberately slow as she mended some of her more serious wounds. Much as she hated to admit it, Caster had underestimated the magus and paid the price for it.

Some Servants may have protested a detestable action such as killing the competition before they could even _become_ competition, but Caster was not one of those Servants. Despite her Master's own misgivings about this strategy, Caster and her Master's father had convinced her of this tactic.

Eliminate the powerful magi before they can summon powerful Servants, and you're left with subpar Masters summoning subpar Servants. The logic was sound, and though technically against the rules of the Heaven's Feel Ritual, Caster was confident she could take Ruler in a fight given it took place in her lair.

A flash of mana erupted on Caster's senses as a faint light emanated from the hole in the wall. She squinted her eyes. _'What on Earth is that hedgemage doing now?"_

"... _you, seven heavens clad in three words of power..."_

Caster's eyes widened, swearing aloud as she prepared an anti-personnel spell as quickly as she could, launching it into the growing radiance of the summoning circle; now clearly visible from the darkness of the foyer.

_"I beseech thee to protect my family. My children. Come forth guardian of the scales!"_

Blinding light burst from the foyer, illuminating the cottage like an earthly star. Time seemed to slow to crawl as Caster's spell creeped forward, a gash in the blinding light. Just another second was all it would take. The magus would die and the summoning spell misfire.

But Caster was a second too late.

An arrow knifed through the hole in the wall, embedding itself in Caster's shoulder with a fleshy smack. Caster cried out in pain, hand moving unconsciously to the wound. Leaping into the air, she moved for cover away from the hole in the wall. Yanking the arrow from her arm, Caster bit back a scream at the excruciating pain, spell already mending the wound.

A flash of green caught her eye as the newly-summoned Servant emerged from the foyer. A young woman in a sea-green and teal battledress, a black bow, and most notably-

Caster hissed as she blew a hole through the roof, soaring upwards to dodge the hail of arrows. Cold wind battering her face as she dematerialized into her spirit form, Caster questioned what sort of Archer-class Servant would have cat ears and a tail.

-xxx-

Safiya gritted her teeth in pain as her newly summoned Servant helped her sit in one of the few chairs not ruined in Caster's attack. Eyes flitting to the now-exposed door to the basement, she sighed in relief to see it was still intact. "Archer, is it?" she asked, hazarding a guess at her… Servant's class. As her Servant nodded in affirmation, Safiya's eyes flickered over to the floorboards near the ruins of the dining room table. "I have some ointment under there. Could you…?"

Stoney expression ever-present on the beautiful Archer's face, she swiftly moved to the floorboards, using the famed strength of a Heroic Spirit to break one away from the rest. Safiya winced at the casual property damage, before realizing how stupid she was being given the circumstances. _'I think the cottage has bigger problems than a broken floorboard right now.'_ she thought, gazing out at the forest through the new, gaping hole in the side of the cottage.

Cold plastic was pressed into Safiya's hand, bringing her back to the present. And in turn, the pain of her wounds. "The ointment, Master." Archer said as her cat ears twitched. _'Yeah, that's going to take some getting used to.'_

Unscrewing the cap, a foul odor reached Safiya's nose as her eyes watered. The stench was horrid, but the ointment was custom-made to heal superficial wounds in a matter of hours. It was also expensive. Very, very expensive. Something Safiya was well aware of as she carefully metered her use of the ointment in the hopes of saving some for later.

As she cleaned her wounds, hissing in pain at the stinging of the concoction, Archer cleared her throat. "Master." Safiya nodded to her Servant, gesturing to go on. "I don't want to bother you while you're in pain, but due to the… unique circumstances of my summoning, I want to know why Caster was attacking you."

"That's a strange way to ask 'Why has everything gone to Hell?'" Safiya attempted a snort of laughter, only to descend into a coughing fit. Archer, concerned look on her face, placed a hand on her Master's shoulder. Coming down from her coughing fit, Safiya attempted a weak grin. "Thanks. Sorry about the coughing. And the house. I'm usually more receptive to guests." She leaned back into the chair, screwing the cap back on the ointment bottle. "I couldn't tell you why I was attacked. No offense, Archer, but I didn't even want to participate in this War. Caster forced my hand when she attacked me."

Snow began to fall through the hole in the roof, wayward flakes beginning to gather in a rough circle on the floor. Safiya cocked her head towards the basement door, neck pain thankfully being dulled by the ointment. "My children are down in the workshop. I couldn't give a damn what happens to me, but if nobody was there to take care of them…" She left the words unsaid. "I don't even have a wish. I just want this War to be over as soon as possible so the kids don't get caught up in it."

Glancing back to look at the cat-eared Servant, Safiya was surprised to see Archer's eyes wide. "Archer? Is everything alright?"

Crouching low to the ground, almost as if she were bowing to a king, Archer lowered her head. "Master, I swear this to you now. My bow is your bow. My eyes your eyes. I don't care if you have no wish for the Grail, as your devotion has swayed me." The Servant raised her head, and Safiya found herself captivated by the pure determination in her teal eyes. "I, Atalanta, pledge my allegiance to your children, Master. For their sake I will aid you."

A gust of chilled wind blew through the ruins of the Elbrecht cottage, gently brushing Archer's battledress and the ruins of Safiya's suit. A bark of laughter broke the tranquility of the moment as Safiya broke down in a fit of laughter despite the pain involved. "S-sorry, Archer. It's just that I never thought I'd get such an unusual Servant." Archer remained silent at her Master's words, but her eyes twinkled with curiosity at her Master's laughter.

Ignoring the moans of protest from her aching, hastily bandaged limbs, Safiya stood, brushing the drywall off her pants. "Well then, Archer. We have a lot of planning to do if we want to win this War." She flashed the cat-eared Servant a grin.

To Safiya's surprise, Archer returned with a small smile of her own. "Of course, Master. Might I ask your name?"

Safiya scratched the back of her head apologetically. "Ah, sorry. Caught up in the moment." As she held out a hand, Safiya nodded. "Safiya von Elbrecht. A pleasure to be working with you, Atalanta."

"And you as well, Master Safiya. Now…" a look of longing came over Archer's face. "Can I… meet your children?"

Safiya chuckled, leading the way as she gushed about her kids in the way only a mother can. "Oh you'll absolutely love them. Ryan and Julia are little bundles of joy, and Karen is my greatest pride! Why, just the other day…"

-xxx-

_With the drawing of the seventh, only one remained to be seen. One vessel yet to be filled._

_From the abyss, She sobbed as the pain became too much. Filling each vessel was a horrid, excruciating process. To perform the task once was asking too much. To perform it eight times was absolute torture._

_But a single light remained visible to her. A pinprick in the darkness of the abyss. Reaching out with a formless hand, She begged for help. Begged for a hero to save her from the pain._

_With a voiceless cry, she called out for her Ruler._


	2. Guardian of Treasures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't actually get to proofread this and my beta is out atm, so I'll likely come back and make some grammar edits sooner or later. Funfact: the first HF movie's OST is great to listen to while writing Fate stories.

**2: Guardian of Treasures**

Saturday, January 25, 2020

Night 1

Kyle's Cottage, Laketon, New York

 

Although it was only just past five, the winter sun had already set beneath the horizon of the pine forest. All across Laketon its residents began to file out into the brightly lit town, the younger folk heading out to enjoy one of the few bars in the village while the elderly and the families gravitated to one of the many cafes and family restaurants scattered around Main Street.

Far from the relatively tame hustle and bustle of Laketon's late evening sat an aged cottage. Nestled deep in the forest outside of town, it had been purchased years ago when Kyle was still preparing to move in with his fiance. Rather tame in appearance both outside and in, the bland furniture was covered in a thin layer of dust from disuse.

White fabric billowed behind Lancer as she stepped into the living room, appraising it with critical eyes. The hood of her shawl lowered, the aforementioned green hair seemed to almost shimmer in the artificial light of the incandescent bulbs. "Master… when was the last time you cleaned your house?"

Kyle followed behind his Servant, doing his best to keep his face neutral despite growing irritation. "Look, I haven't exactly been home lately. I've spent far more time in London lately."

"And I'd bet my library that it's just as dusty." With a roll of her eyes, Lancer muttered a swift spell. Hand pointed at the sofa, a gust of wind billowed into it, sending the dust flying. Nodding in satisfaction, she took a seat before patting the spot next to her. When a blank look from Kyle was her only response, she sighed. "I'm just trying to be friendly, Master. I'd rather not hate the man I'm reliant on as an anchor."

With a quick flick of the remote, Kyle's Servant turned the television on. As she flicked through the channels with a curious glint in her eyes, Kyle heaved a sigh of his own, moving over and taking a seat next to the Lancer, keeping a respectable distance between them. "Look, I'm sorry. I may have been a bit rude with my earlier comments, but I'm just a _little_ bit stressed about the Heaven's Feel. Don't you think it's important for us to hash out a plan as soon as possible?"

The TV screen showed two women discussing beauty products, impossibly cheery smiles on their faces as they talked about different makeup applications. Lancer watched, enraptured. "To think the modern world had this much variety in cosmetics…"

Kyle felt the beginning of a migraine. "Lancer!"

"I heard you the first time, Master." the green-haired Servant replied, turning to face him with an irked expression on her face. "I assumed you already had the basics of a plan prepared. After all, you've had a lot more time to know about the Heaven's Feel than I have."

"I had the basics planned out weeks ago, but most of the last few hours was spent with the assumption that I'd have Gilgamesh as my-"

"King Gilgamesh." She replied evenly, the look in her eyes not allowing for argument.

"King Gilgamesh, then. Anyways, the last few hours I've been assuming my catalyst would get me the King of Heroes. From what my notes on the Fourth War said about him, King Gilgamesh was- _Lancer_! Please pay attention!"

Kyle's Servant had turned back to the television set, twirling a lock of green hair absentmindedly. "Hey, Master. You think I'd look good in that black mascara?"

With a clenched fist, Kyle relented, and turned to look at the TV. "… no. It wouldn't go well with your hair."

The woman beamed at her Master, forcing Kyle to suppress a blush. For anyone else, it could have been love at first sight. But for Kyle it was a reminder of his pledge. "See, Master?" Lancer said. "That wasn't so hard. I may not be my King, but I'm no slouch of a Servant either. We'll win this War, so take it easy a bit. On that note-"

The green-haired Servant stood, pulling her shawl's hood back over her head. "Enjoy yourself tonight, Master. I have an errand to run, but I'll meet up with you later at a bar." Lancer vanished in a wisp of prana as she astralized. _"And it'd better be in a bar! It's been four-thousand years since my last ale."_

"Wait, but you just said we should take it easy!" Kyle protested as his Servant's signature grew fainter as she bolted off into the distance. His eyes glanced momentarily at the Command Spells on his hand. It would be a simple action, he thought to himself as the Spells started to glow. Just order her to return. Put the Servant in her place.

The markings on his hand lost their glow as Kyle sprawled out on the sofa with a groan. "No, that'd be a waste." Command Spells could be used for a plethora of things other than bringing Servants to heel. Instant teleportation, short-term strengthening, and even a mana battery for Noble Phantasms were all feats, some even approaching true magic, that the Command Seals made possible.

"Just grit your teeth and bear it, Kyle." he mumbled to himself. "Soon she'll be gone, and you'll have Hayley back."

 

-xxx-

Night 1

Washington DC

 

38,000 feet above the nation's capital, a lone passenger liner flew through the skies. All was quiet in the skies as the pilot identified itself to the control tower of Reagan International Airport.

Atop the high-flying airliner, a form shimmered momentarily in the air, before solidifying as it entered corporeal form. Leaping from the airliner, Lancer laughed with glee as the wind swept past her face and through her hair. _'To think the modern humans were able to build chariots nearing the might of my King's Vimana. Truly wondrous!'_

The spell's chant, already quickened to beyond human levels by her High Speed Divine Words, was inaudible in the roar of the wind. Her ascent slowed, Lancer reverted to spirit form once more as she shot past the gleaming lights of the city, plummeting through the asphalt road.

And into the tunnels beneath.

Bland and featureless, the Smithsonian Institute's archives were inaccessible to even most of the mages belonging to it. While other tunnels housed the Smithsonian's mage college, the "Federal Institute of Thaumaturgical Studies," this one was abandoned save for the lone security guard on patrol.

Materializing behind the guard, Lancer swiftly chanted, weaving a spell to knock the guard unconscious. As he toppled forward, the guard was caught in the Servant's lithe arms. "Apologies." she whispered, before a small sigil of golden cuneiform appeared over the man's chest. Lancer drank deep of the man's mana, laying him gently on the concrete floor as she finished her ethereal meal. He was pale, and would likely be bedridden for weeks, but the guard knew the risks when he signed up with his government.

This far from her Master, she would be hard-pressed for mana. While her own reserves were plentiful, that quick meal would be needed to make the return trip to Laketon. Reverting to her astral form in a puff of prana, Lancer fell through the floor as she extended her senses. Her target was near, mere meters away. Letting her Skill lead the way, she drifted through the solid rock, emerging within a large steel chamber.

Intruder alarms roared to life the instant she materialized, but Lancer paid them no heed. Her breath hitched as she gazed upon her charge's golden splendor for the first time in her second life. With a flick of her wrist, the Chains of Heaven materialized for but a moment, thrashing forth to free her charge from its reinforced cage. Catching the her target as it fell, Lancer held the golden key close to her chest as images of Uruk flashed through the Servant's mind.

_The golden king atop his throne, face filled with mirth so rare in the latter days of his reign._

_Lancer's dear friend, Siduri, tending to their King's every need as she presented tablet after tablet._

_And finally, her lover. A green-haired man so different from the beastly appearance he once held, yet no less gentle and affectionate. A man who wore her face better than she, his glowing smile far brighter than anything Lancer could ever muster._

Uncaring of the dozen or so cameras trained on her and the shrieking alarms, Shamhat cradled Bab-ilu to her chest.

 

-xxx-

 

Guards swarmed through the hallways, clad in military gear far more advanced than anything its mundane counterparts used. Muzzle-flashes lit up the dim corridors of the hallway as they fired on the intruder. Lancer merely strode through the storm, the Chains of Heaven a blur as it whipped the brass bullets from the air and sent them harmlessly ricocheting into the walls with a shower of sparks.

"I have only come to reclaim what is rightfully my king's. Let me pass, and no blood will be spilled today." Lancer's voice echoed through the tunnels. The bullets continued to fly and Enkidu continued to defend the Divine Harlot as a minute passed. Lancer herself calmly watched the man who looked to be in charge talk on the radio; all the while remaining vigilant for potential magi. While mundane weaponry was no threat to a Servant, a magus, depending on their skill level, could be a different story.

As the hail of bullets died out, Lancer quirked an eyebrow. The head guard stepped forward as the sea of guards parted. "The Secretary of Thaumaturgy apologizes for… acquiring this artifact." he said stiffly. "We would like to ask that you not break into our facilities in the future and instead contact the Secretary directly to lodge complaints."

A small smile graced Lancer's lips. "On behalf of my king, I thank you for your cooperation. I will endeavor to speak with this Secretary in the future." _'Except I know for a fact 'lodging a complaint' wouldn't have done anything. Not in the timeframe I have to work with.'_

Striding past the parted guards and their leader, Lancer took a moment to observe the guards themselves. Armed to the teeth with rifles not capable of harming Lancer, and yet… _'Their armor could probably take a few blows from Enkidu before shattering. If a conflict had occurred, I would have most likely still won, but if a mage had been among them…'_

Lancer let the question hang in her mind as she ascended through the tunnels beneath Washington DC, the physical Bab-ilu preventing escape via astral form.

Far behind Lancer, the head guard let out a large breath of relief as the guards around him did the same. Fighting a Servant themselves would have been suicide, no doubt was placed by any of them in that fact. Yet the Smithsonian would not simply roll over and accept such a blatant blow to their prestige in the Moonlit World.

Bringing his radio up to his mouth, the head guard spoke only two words. "Inform Yates."

 

-xxx-

 

Only 122 treasures remained, and of those treasures only 61 were weapons. Far above of the world, Lancer took stock of her King's treasury. While the Sword of Rupture yet remained within, no other Noble Phantasms remained. While she'd expected the wear of centuries to take their toll, never had she thought to this extent.

Guilt wracked her very being. She was the appointed guardians of King Gilgamesh's treasury, and yet she failed to prevent this horrid outcome. She had thought the safety measures set up to guard Bab-ilu after her death would hold for all time, and to be proven wrong in this way was almost too much.

Taking a deep breath was difficult given the elevation, but the action itself helped Lancer to calm herself. It's not like she needed air as a Servant, anyways. Hooking the Key of King's Law to her belt sash, Lancer felt the connection to her Master gradually re-establish itself as the plane carried her closer to Laketon. With any luck, the rest of the return trip would be without incident. Marduk only knew how much she needed a drink.

Over the thrashing gale of the winds, Lancer heard the dull thump of someone landing behind her a split second before she sensed the Servant. The Chains of Heaven materialized around Lancer, and she gripped the metal links tightly. _'I'm still too far away to receive meaningful prana support from Master. This Servant just had to show up now of all times!?'_ Turning around, her gleaming green eyes bored into the blue-grey.

The young man's thick, blue coat billowed behind him, the viscous winds held at bay likely only by his nature as a Servant. His aforementioned blue-grey eyes held a hint of steel as he stared back at Lancer. "Servant Lancer, you have strayed from the boundaries of the Grail War and assaulted those uninvolved." he spoke, inaudible in the gale to all but Lancer.

His words merged with knowledge given to Lancer by the Grail, and the man's identity clicked. "Ruler." she responded. At the man's nod of affirmation, she continued. "I see the thieving dogs sent one of their own after me. I'll repeat myself only once more, Ruler: I was retrieving that which rightfully belongs to my king. I don't want to fight you, but…" Enkidu drew itself taught in Lancer's hands as she spun one of the bladed ends, letting the unspoken threat speak for itself.

Ruler, to his credit, seemed unfazed by the act. "I do not wish to cross blades tonight, either. My misguided children are the ones crying for you blood." Ruler's gaze shifted to Lancer's belt-sash and the golden key. "But I do not put an act of thievery beyond my wayward children. Please, forgive them for their tresspasses. However, I must ask that you not breach the rules of the Grail War again, for both of our sakes. I do not wish to be naught but an attack dog the mages point at a problem."

Lancer lowered her head in gratitude, doing her utmost to look dignified despite the absolute disaster her hair was in at the moment. _'Damned wind. I'll have to comb my locks for hours just to get all the knots out!'_ Ruler returned the nod, before vanishing in a swiftly retreating mist of prana.

Returning her gaze to the horizon as Ruler's signature grew farther and farther away, Lancer's eyes glowed a dim gold as the darkness ebbed away from her perception. _'The darkvision spell the Indus taught me was definitely worth its weight in gold,'_ Lancer mused as she took in the world below. Snow-covered pine trees grew more numerous as she approached Laketon, their majesty only broken by the gleaming waters of rivers and the frozen surface of lakes. Yet another pang of anguish coursed through her as she tore her eyes away from the sight. _'So much natural beauty, even in this era. Enkidu would have loved to see this.'_

 

-xxx-

 

Kyle sagged on the bar stool, utterly exhausted. Nursing a nearly dry glass of Jack, the young man idly wondered where his life had gone so wrong. Thoughts turning to Hayley, he cringed, tossing back the remainder of the Jack in an effort to banish her image. Eyes never leaving the counter, Kyle shook the glass in front of the bartender. Hearing a grunt of affirmation from the bartender, Kyle took one final sip of the melted ice.

"Rough night?" an unfamiliar, feminine voice spoke beside him, a dull thump reaching his ears as the new arrival seated herself. "Ah, Jackson, I'll take a mojito. Light on the sugar, pretty please."

"You have absolutely no idea." Kyle answered after a moment's deliberation. "New business partner, and she's absolutely _insufferable_."

A light giggle met his whinging. "I know the feeling, hon. Just arrived a few weeks back, and the boss is a total drag. Absolute. Dick." The clatter of glass on wood met Kyle's ears. Seeing that both his and the new arrival's drinks had arrived at once, he gave the bartender a questioning glance. The bearded man merely gave Kyle a quick, barely noticeable wink in response.

_'Great. The wingman I really didn't need.'_

"A toast, then? To insufferable coworkers and asshole bosses." the new arrival announced, holding out her glass. After a moment, Kyle held up his own glass. "I'm sure Jackson here would love to toast them, too. After all, they keep him in business…" Kyle trailed off, seeing the newcomer for the first time.

Before him, glass linked with his, was quite possibly the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Brown locks of hair frames a drop-dead gorgeous face, her skin was a tanned caramel hue that had absolutely no business being in New York, and-

Kyle retracted his glass, quickly taking several sips of his Jack. _'Down, boy. Remember Hayley. Remember the War.'_ he thought to himself as the woman laughed. "Awfully eager to get to your drink, hon. Don't worry, I have that effect on most men."

The bartender, who Kyle silently damned, chuckled as he not-so-secretly watched them from behind his polishing rag and a glass. Kyle made a point of ignoring both that _and_ the coy smile his newfound drinking partner was wearing. "I wonder why." he replied in a dry tone.

She giggled again. "The name's Margaret, hon." she said, taking a slow sip from her mojito. He found himself watching, a bead of condensation dripping down her face as the beverage slipped past her full lips-

A rough pinch on the leg brought the Master back to reality, glazed eyes regaining their focus. _'What the hell's wrong with me, tonight?'_ He thought to himself, returning his gaze to Margaret after several sobering seconds. "Kyle." he replied. "I'm here on business for the next few weeks, but I've been to Laketon several times before. Visiting… family."

Margaret's eyes brightened considerably, hands clapping together in delight. "Oh, so you're familiar with the area? You should show me around tomorrow, then. I haven't had the chance to really explore the town, yet. The bossman is keeping me _really_ damn busy. You know how it is."

Kyle blinked, before giving the gorgeous woman an apologetic smile. "Apologies, but-"

"But, he'd love to!" a voice decidedly familiar to Kyle interrupted as Lancer plopped herself down on the stool to his right. "Sorry, my little brother is a bit shy Please be sure to take good care of him tomorrow!"

Margaret giggled as she eyed the green-haired Servant. "Oh he most certainly he is. Definitely handsome, too, though!" The woman said, eyeing him up in a way he _really_ didn't want.

 _"Lancer, I'm not going on a date with this woman. Aside from the obvious reason of there being a_ War _going on, I also don't feel comfortable-"_

 _"Oh, just have fun with it, Master. You don't have to bed the girl for gods sake! Platonic friend dates are, in fact, a thing."_ Lancer shot back with rolled eyes.

Several sets of male eyes were now on Kyle, jealous glares at the two gorgeous women on either side of him. _'For God's sake, don't look at me like that! I'm not interested and one's married!'_ He resisted the urge to groan. "Alright, I haven't exactly been around recently, but I remember a few good spots I can show you."

Margaret's beaming smile caused him to flush despite himself. "Oh thank you, Kyle! I'll be sure to look my best, so you'd better do the same." With a quick wink, Margaret tossed a slip of paper in his direction, before she stood and placed a few bills on the table. "Thanks again for the drinks, Jackson! And as for you, Kyle…"

Margaret turned to him, leaning in and- _'Close! Close! Close! Far too close!'_ his mind was running a mile-a-minute as she whispered in his ear. "I'll see you tomorrow, hon." With the last word hers, she left the bar, hips swaying all the way out.

 _"Lancer, we are going to have words when we get back to the cottage."_ Kyle did his best to ignore the bartender's knowing smirk as he threw back a swig of Jack.

_"Of course we are, Master. I have to make sure your wardrobe is up to snuff, after all."_

Lancer giggled as her Master began to sputter across their mental link, face contorted in irritation. He really was far too easy.

 

-xxx-

 

A barrage of snowflakes had already begun to churn by the time Kyle had finished his drive back to his cottage. A quick check of his phone confirmed that, indeed, a blizzard was on its way, set to last several days. Stashing his phone away as he stepped into his base of operations, Kyle removed his coat, before turning to his Servant. She was still grinning like an idiot.

"What part of 'I'm not interested' did you fail to understand, Shamhat!" Kyle spat at Lancer with no small amount of venom, surprising the Servant with his rage.

She, to her credit, took his anger in stride. "Master, with all due respect, that woman was considerably beautiful, nice and _very_ interested. What was there not to like?"

"Aside from the fact that I'm already spoken for, you mean?" Kyle spat back. "When you told me your true name, I thought you of all people would understand my wish. It seems I was wrong!"

Lancer stopped in her tracks halfway to the sofa. "Master… you told me about your fiance's regrettable early death, but... what is your wish?"

Kyle's knuckles grew white as he clenched them ever tighter, glaring daggers at the green-haired Servant. "I already told you my fiance died in an accident. My wish should be obvious."

His Servant seemed to go rigid at his words, her normally flowing movements stiff and robotic as she turned back to meet his gaze with pitying eyes. "Resurrection is a foolish wish, Master. If you know what's good for you, you'll move on." With her piece said, she vaulted over the sofa's armrest, landing prone on the sofa. With a quick flick of her wrist, the television was turned on to the same channel it had been running that afternoon.

The grinding of teeth was audible even to Lancer as Kyle held his tongue on the issue, opting to move on to other subjects. "My wish aside, where did you run off to tonight? You were out of contact for nearly five hours."

The Servant hummed softly, eyes never leaving the television. Reaching for an open bag of chips on the coffee table, she tosses a chip into her mouth. Kyle's irritation grew as she seemed to ignore him, but before he could speak up about it, Lancer answered. "Visiting this nation's capital."

Kyle blinked. That had not been the answer he was expecting. "Why?"

His Servant shrugged, green locks bobbing with the motion. As she tossed another chip into her mouth, Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose. "Lancer."

Lancer sighed, putting the bag of chips aside. "I was taking back what rightfully belonged to my king. Ruler decided to allow the act, so there is no issue."

Kyle's blood ran cold. "Lancer, did you cause a scene? Did any normals see you fight?"

The woman huffed at the accusations. "Of course not, Master. I'm blessed with intelligence to match my beauty."

Kyle let out a held breath. _'Oh thank God. If she had caused a scene-'_

"I just reacquired Bab-ilu from the American magi. Nothing you need to concern yourself with."

Kyle's mouth hung open at her declaration. _'If the Smithsonian doesn't kill me, this bloody migraine will.'_ Groaning, he shielded his eyes from the light of the TV. "I'm going to bed, Lancer. We'll discuss this further in the morning."

The Divine Harlot beamed after Kyle. "Have a good rest, Master!"

"Yeah, not likely…" he grumbled.

 

-xxx-

 

Shamhat sobbed before the freshly filled grave of her beloved, beautiful features marred by a mess of tears and mucus. On her knees, she traced the grave with her free hand, a wreath of flowers clutched in the other. Muttering apologies one after the other, one would be hard-pressed to recognize this woman to the proud and beautiful consort of the late Enkidu.

She'd been in Eridu when the news had arrived. A routine mission of diplomacy her king had entrusted to her. The Great Enkidu was dead. The friend of King Gilgamesh was no more.

Her lover was gone.

She'd hurried back as fast as she'd could. Gilgamesh would never have held the funeral without her, but he'd refused to let her see the body. "Remember him as he was." her king had said.

The funeral was torture. Pitying looks from the masses and even open tears from her king. But the worst was the whispers. Nobody dared tell her outright, for fear of the King's wrath, but she had heard them nonetheless. They spoke of words. Enkidu's last words. Her king was not fast enough to silence them, and Enkidu's last words were burned into her mind as if by brand.

"If only I had never met Shamhat. If only I had stayed in the wilds."

Her body was gaunt over the grave, for it had been nearly two days since he'd been laid to rest and she had yet to leave his side. Beautiful face marred with sunburn and sunken cheeks, silken robes little more than torn rags, and green hair filled with knots, Shamhat continued her mantra of apologies.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Behind her, a man approached. Shamhat, buried in her grief, paid him no heed. Clearing his throat, the man spoke. "What foolishness is this, Shamhat? Enkidu would be distraught to see his dear lover in such a state!"

Her head jerked towards the man, gasping as she saw it was none other than her king, Gilgamesh. She quickly lowered it, not meeting the king's gaze. "Why are you here? I killed your friend with my own two hands. If it wasn't for me… if wasn't for this useless whore Enkidu would still live! You should hate me, despise me, execute me-"

"Cease your ravings, Shamhat!" The Divine Harlot clammed up at Gilgamesh's command, though her jaw remained clenched, teeth grinding against one another. "Raise your head."

Shamhat slowly complied with her king's decree. Her king was ever the picture of perfection, but she knew better. She could recognize that look of sorrow in his eyes. And it made her feel all the more guilty.

Gilgamesh took a deep breath. "I will not lie to you, Shamhat. Enkidu did indeed say the words that those mongrels so carelessly uttered in your presence."

Her heart broke all over again. "Then execute me here, my king! Behead me for the heinous crime of killing your dearest friend!"

"Silence, Shamhat." Gilgamesh commanded. "You are the proud consort my dearest friend now and forevermore. Even if he now rests with Ereshkigal, nothing will ever change that. Now, if you will let your king finish…"

Her king walked towards the grave, seating himself on the grass beside Enkidu's consort. Reaching out a hand, he ran his fingers along the clay tomestone. "He did indeed say those words in a fit of diseased passion, but they were immediately retracted. In his last moments, he sung naught but praises for you, his proud consort who shone brighter than that floozy Ishtar ever could!"

The King of Uruk turned to look at her. "I'll be leaving soon, Shamhat. Siduri will be looking after Uruk in my absence."

Shamhat's reddened, tear-stained eyes widened. "To where, my king?"

"Utnapishtim. He has one last treasure I desire. One last addition to my vaults." Gilgamesh held out a hand, and a golden portal appeared between the two of them. "Hold out your hands, proud Shamhat."

The Divine Harlot did as commanded, and gasped as links of chain fell from the Gate of Babylon and into her outstretched arms. "M-my king? But this is your most trusted weapon! Enkidu forged this himself from his own body. Why would you part with it?"

Gilgamesh cocked his head towards the grave of their precious one. "It was his last request, proud Shamhat. Enkidu felt such guilt over his slanderous words he asked I gift it unto you. To be with you still, even in death, was the only way he felt he could ever be forgiven."

Shamhat gazed down at the Chains of Heaven in her arms. Slowly she raised her head, meeting her king's gaze. Sorrow still ate away at every fiber of her being, but despite herself…

She smiled.

And Kyle's first dream came to an end.

-xxx-

Sunday, January 26, 2020

Day 2

 

Dawn broke over the pristine waters of Lake Ontario. Ruler gazed across the mostly frozen shoreline as snow fell all around him. Though snow yet fell, today businesses would open as usual, the salted roads and snow plows still able to keep up with the workload. A blizzard during the opening days of the Grail War was a boon to all involved, as it meant less mundane folk would be out and about to witness the events. Daytime hours were safe to act in, provided the combatants stayed in the woods surrounding the village.

Hands in the pockets of his modern coat, the Servant of the Grail strode along the snow-covered sand. Gazing out in the direction of the Greater Grail, submerged deep beneath the frozen waters of the lake, he shook his head. "To think this farce of a ritual was this rotten. I hadn't thought my opinion of modern magi could go any lower."

Turning his head to look back at the docks of Laketon, Ruler nodded with grave resolve. With no further words to say aloud, he vanished into his astral form, wisps of prana barely distinguishable from the delicate snowflakes around them.


	3. Those Joyful Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally managed to churn out chapter 3. Working as a bartender can be fun, but you better enjoy being drained from all the socialization, lol.

**Chapter 3: Those Joyful Days**

Sunday, January 26, 2020

Day 2

 

            There were many things that Safiya enjoyed in the early morning hours. A hot cup of tea, a warm biscuit with jam, and even, on rare occasions, a sweet pastry. It should be noted that “surveying the wreckage of her home” was not one of the aforementioned activities.

            Her body still recovering and sore in quite literally _all_ of the most obnoxious places, the magus supported her weight on her Mystic Code cane, doing yet another lap around the ruined estate. “Karen, for the last time, don’t move that sofa until I’m feeling well enough to help.”

            Safiya’s adopted daughter and apprentice grunted as she lifted the sofa, reinforced body only barely strong enough to enable the young teen to pick it up. “If we wait that long, the snow will melt and ruin it, Mother. I can handle it!” With a wobble, she slowly moved towards the entryway to the basement, the door ripped from its hinges by the two magi in order to widen the gap for furniture. The two had spent much of the night and early morning moving the furniture not completely destroyed into the basement. Safiya still had plenty of money saved from her Clock Tower paychecks and bounties, so rebuilding after the Holy Grail War would be a simple, if extended, affair.

            Ryan and Julia had long since stopped crying over their ruined home. Safiya smiled over at them as they played in the snow with Archer. The two were stronger than they looked, having lost their homes once before. The Master’s eyes came to rest on her Servant. Atalanta was surprisingly good with children, and if the smile on her face was anything to go by it wasn’t a facade.

            Karen wiped the dust from her coat as the young apprentice exited the cellar. “That should be the last of it. Everything else is charred beyond all recognition.” Safiya, noticing her daughter’s gaze on her, turned to look at Karen.

            “Unfortunate, but the important thing is that you three are unharmed.” Safiya replied, testing her foot and wincing in pain. Still needed another day, it seemed.

            The young apprentice gave Safiya an unreadable look, a small frown set in her fair face. “Yourself as well, Mother.” Stepping closer to her mother, she made a show of inspecting Safiya’s leg, despite the pants covering it. “I know your fight was unavoidable, but I don’t like this one bit. Aren’t you the one always droning on and on about the dangers of a Heaven’s Feel?”

            The snow fell gently with the veil of uncomfortable silence, Safiya’s head raised to gaze up at the clouded sky. “Aye, I know I’ve become quite the hypocrite, but it was the only option to protect you three. By the end of my bout with Caster, I looked much worse than I do now.” She punctuated her statement by gesturing to the myriad cuts bruises on her face, too minor to even consider using the expensive healing salve on.

            Karen huffed, turning away to look at her Mother’s Servant. Archer was still playing with her two younger siblings, another snowball fight from the looks of things. “I know, Mother. But knowing and liking are two different things.”

            Safiya nodded in agreement. “Trust me when I say I hold no joy in participating. I’d die protecting you kids, but I’d rather not.” She cracked a smile as Karen did the same, the mood lightening. “That said, precautions must be taken. This afternoon we’ll be transplanting the rest of the Crest onto you.”

            The hammer in Karen’s hand fell to the snow, forgotten as she stared, jaw agape, at her mother. “Already? But Mother, even with my Origin, I don’t think I can handle a sudden transplant on that scale!”

            Safiya’s hand came to rest on her daughter’s head. “You’ll be able to, Karen. It will be incredibly painful, but you’ll be able to handle it. Even if we aren’t related by blood, I’m ever so proud of my little prodigy.”

            Karen groaned, but leaned into her mother’s touch regardless. “That sounded really, really lame. But… thanks.”

            The two stayed like that for several more moments, before parting. They still had a lot of work to do, and Kyle would be arriving soon with his own Servant.

 

-xxx-

 

            The drive to Safiya’s cottage was quiet. A simple text message had been waiting for him when he awoke, “Urgent. Come to cottage ASAP,” and he’d immediately grabbed his cane Mystic Code, Firestarter. Lancer had been quietly fiddling around with his cell phone since, fascinated by the technology.

            “You trust this woman, Master?” Lancer broke the silence first, not looking up from her game of Bejeweled. It was slightly frightening how quickly she’d picked up that particular game.

            Kyle nodded in response, doing a quick check of his familiars stationed around the city. It was a wholly comprehensive network with one unfortunate and glaring blind spot: Safiya’s cottage. Kyle cursed himself; Safiya could definitely handle herself, but he should have added an extra layer of redundancy. “I do. She’s been my mentor for years, and possibly my best friend. She’s the one that gave me your catalyst, although she expected your King to be summoned.”

            His Servant hummed softly as she slid a finger along the screen, destroying a row of rubies. A small grin crossed her face at the minor victory. “Well, I trust you. So if you trust her that’s fine by me.”

            Kyle’s mind did a full stop. “Wait, you trust me?” He asked, thoroughly confused. He’d done nothing but express irritation with the green-haired woman since her summoning.

            “Well, yeah. You’ve got a fairly large stick up your rump most of the time, but you seem like the sort with morals.” Lancer locked Kyle’s phone, placing it in the cupholder as she flashed him a grin. “I can tell you’re fiercely loyal, too, from your misguided wish.”

            A police car passed in the opposite lane, lights bright and sirens roaring as it shrieked past. Kyle paid it only the barest of attention as he pointedly ignored Lancer belittling his wish. “You figured all of that out from just one night, huh?”

            The Servant gave him a decidedly girlish giggle. “One of the perks of my past. I call it ‘Discernment of the Whore.’”

            Kyle shook his head in disbelief. “I know for a fact you don't have any such skill, Shamhat.” He sighed as she gave him yet another of her insufferable giggles, turning his attention back to driving and checking his familiars-

            The man blinked, before a small smile spread across his face. The Mesopotamian glanced in his direction, inquisitive look on her face.

            As they exited the treeline, Safiya’s ruined cottage entered their view, and thoughts of his discovery were sidelined as pangs of worry entered his mind. “Later, but… I believe I just located a Servant.”

 

-xxx-

 

            “Fort Maple?” Safiya asked, echoing Kyle’s words. After he’d made sure everyone was safe and getting over the initial shock of Safiya being a Master (something he’d never thought she’d do, until she explained the circumstances), he, Safiya, and Lancer had retired to the aging magus’s workshop. Archer had remained upstairs to watch the children while the Masters held their impromptu meeting.

            He set Firestarter against the workbench, careful not to knock over any of his mentor’s reagents or tools. After pulling out a chair for Lancer, which she took with a gracious nod, Kyle took a seat himself, spreading a map of Laketon out on the workbench. “I sent crow familiars out to surveil various parts of the city yesterday, and while I slept one seems to have fallen off the proverbial grid.”

            A checker was placed on the map, west of the village but still slightly east of the aforementioned fort. “My crow should have been hiding here, so unless someone is trying to throw us off track, which admittedly is a distinct possibility, there’s some funny business going on in Maple.”

            Safiya shifted her posture in her chair, right leg going over left. “Fort Maple has a decent leyline running through it, so I could see Caster setting up there. The leyline isn’t…” the Master of Archer trailed off, attempting to think of the right word to use. “Ok, to put it frankly, the leyline is mediocre at best. But it’s probably the highest quality in Laketon aside from my cottage.

            A dull grinding noise caught the elder magus’s attention. Lancer had produced a nail file from somewhere, carefully inspecting each nail as she filed away. Safiya gave Kyle a look of confusion, but only found him with his head buried in his hands, exasperated.

            “Lancer, please! Five minutes of your attention is all we need.” Kyle said, a low groan of irritation in his voice.

            The gorgeous Servant allowed the gold-plated nail file to vanish into wisps of prana. “I was listening, Master. A true woman is able to effortlessly gussy up under any circumstances.” she replied with a smug smile, hand throwing back her emerald-green locks of hair. “If this home’s leyline is supposedly better than the one at the fort, I don’t think we have anything to worry about. The quality and quantity of prana in this era is absolutely pitiful, and with my A-rank Magic Resistance even a powerful magus would be hard-pressed to defeat me.”

            “A probing attack, then?” Kyle suggested. “Nothing overly-committed, but something to measure their defenses.”

            Taking a moment to examine the map, Safiya placed a finger on a patch of forest. “There’s a hilltop here with a good view of Fort Maple. I’ve taken the kids on picnics there before in the summer.” she explains, falling silent as she talks with her Servant over their telepathic link. After a moment, she smiles and nods, turning back to Kyle. “Archer is confident she could use the hill as an observation point, at the very least.”

            A wave of unease overcomes Kyle, the urge to vomit coming over him before he quickly quells it. _‘Get a hold of yourself! You knew the risks of the Grail War, and became a Master anyways. Don’t get cold feet now.’_

            _“You alright there, Master?”_ Kyle heard Lancer speak over their telepathic link as she sent him a concerned look, causing Kyle to mentally swear. He’d let his emotions seep into their link without realizing it.

            Wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, he inhaled a deep breath of the prana-rich workshop air. _“I’m fine, Lancer. Just a bit nervous.”_ He gave the Servant a wary look, but her concern seemed genuine enough. _“You’re dismissed for now. Safiya and I are going to hash out the details of the scouting mission.”_

            A beaming grin spread on Lancer’s face as she stood from her chair, her walk towards the workshop’s entrance almost a skip. “Thanks a bunch, Master! I’ll be sure to keep Archer good company.”

            Slamming the door behind her, a cloud of dust was disturbed, flying everywhere in a plume. Coughing, he gave Safiya an apologetic look. “Sorry, she’s… hard to handle.”

            Safiya was unperturbed by the plume of dust, merely giving Kyle a sympathetic glance. “One you seem to be managing rather well. I saw that little moment the two of you had.”

            Kyle brought the palm of his hand to his face. “We’re not starting this again, Safi. Not right now, when we have so much shit going on.”

            With a disappointed sigh, Safiya nodded in agreement. “If you say so.” With a crack of her knuckles, she winced in pain, grumbling about her aging body. “Now then, where were we?”

 

-xxx-

 

            In the snowy field surrounding his home, two forts stood. Theirs was a hastily assembled wall of snow. It was higher than any Ryan had ever built on his own, and Ms. Archer had seemed very proud of it! But…

            Far atop the snow walls of the opposing fortress, the pretty green-haired woman gave a haughty laugh as Julia attempted to do the same. “Foolish knaves! Who are you to challenge the might of a Neo Uruk, kingdom of the great golden king!”

            “He can’t be all that great if he rules yellow snow!” Ryan jeered back, the eight year old blowing the haughty woman a wet raspberry. He giggled as she began to sputter in righteous indignation.

            Beside Ryan, Archer palmed her face as a new hail of snowballs rained down upon the walls of Fort Aegis. “Lancer may be taking this game a bit too seriously…”

            “Ms. Archer!” Ryan cried out. “We’re getting creamed. We need to fight back!” He lobbed a snowball over the protection of their walls, but it fell short of the two queens of Neo Uruk and shattered against the packed-snow walls. Her own snow arrows fared little better, batted aside by Lancer’s hail of snowballs long before they even reached the other Servant.

            All across the battlefield, reinforced icicles functioned as makeshift cheval de frise, their pointed edges meant to deter approach. Why Lancer had thought such things were necessary for a children’s game was beyond Archer. “I’d better stop her before she accidentally hurts one of the children.”

            Ryan turned to Ms. Archer, eyes wide. “What? We can still win this, miss?”

            The hope in the child’s eyes, even over something as silly as a game of snowball, lit a small fire within the Chaste Huntress. “Of course, lad. I’ve crossed terrain far worse than this.” She crouched like a cat ready to pounce, gripping her carved ice-bow tightly, before launching herself out of the trenches of Fort Aegis.

            She weaved between all manner of spikes, dragon’s teeth, and palisade as she went over, under and around the defenses. Dodging and weaving under the hail of snowballs, she quickly prepared one of her own, launching it at Lancer with the force of a bullet. Crossing Arcadia and Clairvoyance. Two vaunted Skills of her Heroic Spirit self reduced to being used in a game. _‘The things I do for a child’s smile…’_

            Ice chains formed around Lancer, and a quick flick of their frozen links shattered the snowball on impact. Archer had to bite back a swear. There were children around, after all. “Ok, now she’s definitely cheating.”

            Ryan cheered Archer on from behind the safety of their shared fort. “You can do it, miss!”

            Atalanta grinned back at the young lad. “That was never once in doubt, child.”

            The Servant of the Bow soared, snow kicked every which way as her leap carried her through the air and onto the sides of Neo Uruk. Feet threatened to slip on the icy surface, but her Skill held firm as she made a mad dash up the walls; even as the walls themselves became her enemy, ice chains and pillars of snow bursting forth to impede her advance.

            Reaching the top, she dropped into a low crouch, the bow carved from ice drawn on the Servant of the Spear. “Surrender, Lancer.”

            With her sharp eyes, Archer saw the other Servant hesitate. Surely the strange magus Lancer had other means to win the fight even now, but within the confines of the snowball fight, even with the rules stretched as thinly as they were, Archer was quite confident things were over.

            Focused as she was, the chill of a snowball breaking over her head surprised the Servant of the Bow greatly. “Wha-”

            Julia gave a shrill cheer. “I got her, Lancer! Did you see that?”

            The green-haired Lancer, unworried of any retaliatory strike by Archer, returned the small girl’s beaming smile, walking over and ruffling the girl’s hair.

            As she lowered the ice bow with a smile of her own, the Chaste Huntress simply couldn’t find it in her to be upset over failure.

 

-xxx-

 

            “They certainly still have a lot of energy.” Karen commented, walking up from behind Archer with two thermoses in hand, one outstretched to the Servant.

            The two children, three, if you counted the adult-child Lancer, were off in a mansion of an igloo, a small fire warming the interior. From the entrance, the Servant of the Bow could see the shawled woman waving her arms animatedly, regalling Ryan and Julia with a story from her past. A tale of the time her lover and his friend had slewn a fell monster.

            “I find it refreshing, truth be told.” Atalanta replied, accepting the thermos offered and taking a sip. She resisted the urge to grimace. _‘Coffee. I was expecting tea...’_ Watching Karen take a sip of her own, and appearing to enjoy it, Archer held onto her thermos to be polite to the child. She took no further sips, however. “Lancer reminds me of my time on the Argos. The dozens of egos became insufferable at times, but it never made for a boring voyage.”

            Karen laughed, and the teen girl took another sip of her coffee. “My family is definitely a lively one. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.”

            A spell of silence fell over the two women, Karen sipping at her coffee while Archer made a show of pretending to. Beneath the igloo, Lancer was showing the two children a trick of magecraft, dancing flames forming various shapes to the awe of Ryan and Julia. Watching the display with her small smile, she finally voiced a thought that had been eating at her since her summoning. “Karen, if you don’t mind me asking…” She paused, only continuing when the teen gave her a tiny nod. “Where is your father?”

            Karen’s smile vanished, a distant look in her eyes as she turned to face her younger siblings. They were a storm of giggles before the divine magecraft of Lancer, the performance apparently a humorous one. “This family never had a father.” She responded finally, taking a deep sip of coffee. “Mother saved Ryan and Julia from a life at an orphanage. None of us are actually related by blood.”

            The Servant of the Bow felt her respect for the ageing magus grow as Karen spoke. “Admirable of her. Saving children is the greatest act of kindness a hero can perform.”

            Karen chuckled dryly, her eyes still locked in their thousand-yard stare. “It was seven years ago that they were saved. And nine years have passed since I was.”

            Atalanta waited for the teen magus to continue, but it soon became obvious that the girl was done speaking. Light returned to her eyes nearly a minute later, and Archer recognized her forced smile for what it was. “Archer, I don’t want what my family has to end. Please… promise me you’ll protect Mother.”

            The Chaste Huntress did not hesitate for even a moment. “Even if it costs me my life, I’ll never let those two cry. Nor you, Karen.”

            A gust of wind picked up as the snow began to fall, the crystals of ice lightly drifting to the Earth. Karen’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears. “I’ll be holding you to that promise, Archer.”

            The sound of the newly-repaired basement door opening caught both of their attentions, Karen quickly wiping her eyes as her mother and Kyle appeared from the cellar. “Is the planning complete?” Archer asked, setting her barely touched thermos in the snow.

            Safiya nodded. “We’re going to scout Fort Maple come nightfall. I’ll explain the details of the plan later, but you’re going to be our eyes for this operation.”

            Kyle walked past the three of them, heading towards Lancer. The two shared a brief conversation, before Lancer bid farewell to a crestfallen Ryan and Julia. Archer turned back to Safiya. “Where are they going? Preliminary scouting?”

            Safiya shook her head. “Other business, apparently. Kyle has told me that his Servant is a bit of a handful and wants to see the village.” A mischievous grin spread on the aging magus’ face. “Maybe she’ll help him learn to live a little, again. Lord knows that boy is man’s become far too stuffy.”

            Archer cocked her head. “Was he different in the past?”

            Karen excused herself from the group, going to insure that the rubble and ice-spikes from the earlier snowball war was cleaned up before the children could hurt themselves on it. Safiya, picking up Atalanta’s still full thermos. “You going to finish this?” At the shake of her Servant’s head, she popped the top, taking a long swig of coffee.

            “I see a love for that beverage runs in the family.” Archer commented, and Safiya merely chuckled in response, nodding.

            Recapping the thermos, Safiya heaved a heavy sigh. “To spare you the long version, he was always stiff, but much less so before his fiance and my other protege… passed away.” A pained look passed over the magus’s face as she spoke the last two words. “Not even a good way to go, like an alchemical accident. Got killed by a drunk driver some five years back. Ever since then, he’s been, well, like this.”

            Atalanta nodded, knowing better than to apologize for the woman’s loss. “Loss is difficult, as many Heroic Spirits can attest to. I take it his wish is to resurrect her?”

            Safiya took another sip of coffee, and Archer’s keen ears picked up her grumbling. Evidently the magus was wishing for a drink far stiffer. “It isn’t what she would have wanted, but yes. Yes it is.”

            Safiya ended the conversation there, turning around and waving at her Servant as she approached the cellar door. “I’m going to prep a few familiars to go on ahead of us tonight. Mind keeping the kids busy in the meantime?”

            The Chaste Huntress felt a smile once again grace her features. “It would be my honor, Master.”

 

-xxx-

 

Fort Maple, Laketon

Day 2

 

            Lying just west of the village, Fort Maple was an aging, War of 1812-era stronghold on the shores of Lake Ontario. Its brick foundation remarkably well-maintained given its advanced age, the fort was generally occupied by tourists during the warmer summer months. As of several days prior, Fort Maple had been closed to the public for renovations.

            Or so the masses had been told.

            Atop the battlements of the fort’s magecraft-enhanced walls, Caster watched as the younger Rider and their Master worked with vigor on their project. All around them, Caster’s homunculi rushed to and fro, working on all manner of tasks from aiding the Riders and their Master, to merely cleaning their quarters. Their impossibly beautiful faces were nearly identical to her own, betraying their genetic heritage.

On her left, the elder Rider approached, covered in grease and with an insufferably goofy grin on his face. He looked like a child that’d been given a new and very expensive toy. “Work’s going quite nicely thanks to your guidance, Caster. In another four days or so, our secret weapon will be ready for deployment!”

            Caster nodded, though she allowed a small smile to grace her regal features. Though obnoxious at times, she shared the Rider brothers’ enthusiasm on this project. “Excellent. Are there any problems with the propulsion mechanism I made for the vessel?”

            A loud pop echoed off the interior walls of the fort’s courtyard, followed by a dull hum. The Master of Rider, Franklin, let out a loud whoop as he high-fived the younger Rider brother. The elder brother chuckled. “It seems not. Mind letting the princess know our pet project is going _very_ well?”

            Caster shivered at the thought of the so-called “princess.” Not the Einzbern homunculus herself, but rather her guardian. “I’ll send a homunculus. I’d rather not have my presence graced by Berserker twice in one day.”

            The elder Rider nodded, before vaulting over the side of the wall to rejoin his younger brother and their Master.  A normal human would have had their legs shattered from the impact, but for a Servant such a leap was child’s play even for the weakest Heroic Spirits.

            “I don't trust Gisela von Einzbern at all.” Caster’s Master said as she approached the Servant of the Spell. Sending a telepathic order to one of her homunculi to speak with the aforementioned Einzbern, Caster turned to look as her Master rested her arms on the stone railing, leaning as she watched the Riders and Franklin work.

            “Neither do I, but any particular reasoning behind your sentiments?” the platinum-blonde Servant asked, mentally running checks on the fort’s wards.

            The Master shook her head, and Caster smirked as she caught her Master’s gaze linger on the Riders’ Master for a tad too long. “She just… unnerves me. Something about her sets me on edge.”

            “She’s a modern homunculus.” Caster responded matter-of-factly. “While I have to admit her magic circuits and body are on-par with what I’m able to give my own, her mental development is far too stunted for her purpose. Quality homunculi should not have the personality of a mass-produced worker.” Caster leaned on the railing next to her Master. “Remember, my apprentice, to always respect the life you create. Even if it’s purpose is naught more than fuel for experimentation, every homunculi must be tailored for its purpose in the most optimal way possible.”

            Digesting the lesson her teacher had imparted, the magus fell silent, the thirty year-old woman pushing a lock of shoulder-length brown hair out of her face as she hugged her winter coat tighter. “Even your son?”

            Caster’s gaze hardened. “Even my son.”

            The Master of Caster straightened her back as she rose from her lean. “Thank you, Teacher. With your help I’ve already come one step closer to being an heir worthy of Dad’s bloodline.”

            For a split second, a different face superimposed itself over the young mage’s. A cocky smile and an eagerness to impress. “From what little I’ve spoken with the man, your father already seems to love you dearly.”

            “He does. More than I could ever appreciate.” Sayaka Sisigou replied, descending the steps to Fort Maple’s courtyard. “Which is why I have to work even harder to not let him down.”

 

-xxx-

Tohsaka Apartment, London

Night 1

 

            Everything was perfect. The perfect catalyst, a traced pair of the married blades; the perfect time, the clocks checked religiously this time for signs of malfunction; and, of course, her perfect family, with her sister and her husband watching from a safe distance so as to not interfere with the ritual. Medusa was watching from an even farther distance, as a Heroic Spirit such as herself was too risky to have near the circle when trying to summon her former Servant.

            So why then, did she fail?

            An unfamiliar young asian man, little more than a teen, stood in the center of the summoning circle, brown zhiduo and non la weathered but intact. “Upon thy summoning I have come. So I ask of thee, who hath summoned me in the vessel of Saber, art thou my Master?”

            Rin sat in stunned silence, Shirou and Sakura no better. Saber looked between the three of them, cocking his head in confusion. “You aren’t Archer.” Rin finally managed to croak, voice hoarse.

            “I am not. Were you perhaps hoping for my father?” Saber asked, motioning to the married blades at his feet. “Or perhaps… oh these are _his_.” Saber grinned at Shirou, giving him a knowing look, before he turned back to his flabbergasted Master. “In any case, I’m Chi, your Saber for this Holy Grail War.”

            Silence once again permeated Tohsaka’s workshop. A silence finally broken when Shirou gave Rin a sympathetic look. “Well… at least you finally got a Saber, Tohsaka!”

            The look he received would have killed a lesser man.


	4. Colliding Souls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I was lazy. Chapter is late and I don't have a good excuse beyond that lol
> 
> EDIT 8/15/2019: Changed the second to last paragraph. It originally felt like I was rushing the plot along.

**Chapter 4: Colliding Souls**

Sunday, January 26, 2020

Day 2, Midday

 

            Laketon was abuzz with activity, its residents bustling in the streets as they attempted to complete last-minute shopping before the coming blizzard. However, amongst the masses of the village, one face stood out with a dazzling smile and sunny eyes.

            Margaret tugged on the sleeve of Kyle’s jacket as she pulled him closer to the glass storefront. “Oh, look at this!” she said, pointing at a particularly fashionable winter getup on display. “This is really cute! I didn’t think such a small village would have city fashion on display.”

            As the magus massaged his arm, already beginning to grow sore from being yanked every which way, Kyle inspected the dress in question. It was certainly form-fitting, clinging to the plastic skin of the mannequin. Glancing at the woman beside him, his eyes ran up and down her figure. “It’d definitely look great on you.” he replied with a small nod, quashing any lingering sentiments.

            “It’s decided, then!” With another yank, Kyle was dragged into the store. “Wait here, I’ll go try it on.” She left him at the front of the store as she strutted like a peacock towards the clerk. She turned back one last time, winking. “No peeking!”

            While his supposed date (though he refused to call her as such) was off getting changed, Kyle collapsed on a chair near the door. _‘Why did I even let Lancer bully me into this?’_ He griped within the confines of his mind.

            As if sensing Kyle’s thoughts, Lancer chimed in from her astralized state. _“Chin up, Master! You did good for yourself; this girl is an absolute stunner and totally into you.”_

            As Margaret vanished into the changing rooms, still chatting with the store clerk, his temper finally got the better of him. Kyle spun on the empty space where he knew Lancer had planted her intangible self. _“And I’ve already told you I’m not looking for a relationship! How hard is that to goddamn understand?”_

            A spell of silence fell over the pair. Kyle took several deep breaths, each released in the same controlled manner. A technique he’d learned from Safiya to calm the nerves, and something he sorely needed at that moment. _“Look, I’m sorry for yelling. You’re trying to help, I get that, but this isn’t something I want help on.”_ Kyle reached back to scratch his head. _“Look, I’m having fun so far. This woman is nice, but_ only _as a friend. So lay off, alright?”_

            The silence turned awkward for the Master and his Servant, with the only sound for several moments the muffled conversation of Margaret and the store clerk. When Lancer finally responded over their telepathic link, she sounded… remorseful? _“I guess I prodded a bit too much. My apologies, Master.”_

            The magus sighed. _“Don’t get all formal on me. Now you’re making me feel like the asshole here. Just respect my own wishes. That’s all I ask.”_

            Whatever reply Lancer had prepared was interrupted when Margaret came barreling into the room. “So? What do you think?”

            The form-fitting fabric clung to her frame in all the right places, there was no doubt about that in Kyle’s mind. Crushing any errant lustful thoughts, he smiled at the woman playing dress-up. “It looks great on you! A bit cold, though. Might want to get an overcoat for that.”

            Margaret grinned coyly, sticking a finger to her lips. “But you wouldn’t be able to see anything, then.” she responded.

            Kyle nearly choked at the blatant attempt to flirt. “I wouldn’t- I mean I would…” The magus narrowed his eyes in irritation as Margaret fell into a fit of giggles. It wasn’t helped in the slightest by his obnoxious Servant transmitting her own laughter over their telepathic link.

            Thankfully for him, Margaret threw the poor man a lifeline. As her fit of giggles died down, she beamed in his direction. “Never gets old no matter how many times I pull that move.” With a wink in Kyle’s direction, she handed the shop clerk a credit card. “As thanks for putting up with my teasing, I’ll let you pick the next stop. Alright?”

            The magus rolled his eyes. “I thought I was supposed to be showing you around town to begin with?”

            “You are! The best tour guide knows when his guests want to stop, after all!” Her outfit paid for, Margaret lead the magus out of the shop by the arm. “So…” she droned, lips forming an ‘O.’ “Where to?”

            With little deliberation, Kyle lead Margaret through the emptying streets. Looking around as the lack of hustle and bustle, the woman sighed. “The townsfolk are already gone? I was looking forward to peoplewatching, though!”

            Arriving at their destination, a local diner, the young magus held the door open for Margaret as he responded. “Laketon folk are accustomed to blizzards of this sort. Unlike other areas, most already have emergency supplies pre-purchased.”

            Margaret nodded in understanding, muttering a quick thanks to Kyle for the held door. “So… what’s this place?”

            “Did you not read the sign?” He asked, bewildered expression on his face as Margaret sent back an apologetic look. “Fifty-Stars. It’s a local diner.” He explained, waving to the waiter as he led Margaret to the counter table by the window. “Figured the local fare would be more appropriate than McDonald’s.” Kyle flashed a small grin in her direction.

            The diner was… decidedly not as crowded as it usually was. A symptom of the coming storm no doubt. A rather anxious-looking boy was the one to take their order, his eyes darting over Margaret seemingly against his own will, before quickly back at Kyle. The magus resisted the urge to roll his eyes, biting back a retort about teenage hormones. He had been, after all, no better once upon a time. Margaret looked over her given menu with no small amount of interest, either oblivious to or unaffected by the boy’s attention.  “I’d heard of it in passing, but this is my first time visiting.” She bit her lower lip. “I think I’ll start with water.”

            “Me as well.” Kyle added, and the waiter jotted down both of their orders, leaving with an almost reluctant air about him. “Quite the head-turner, aren’t you.” the magus deadpanned.

            Margaret giggled at his quip, grey eyes almost glimmering in the artificial light. “You get used to it after a while. In years gone by I may have even played off of it for grins, but…” An almost melancholic look graced the young woman’s face for a split second, before it morphed into her usual simper. “I guess you can say I matured with age.”

            The young magus chuckled as he rolled his eyes. “Because the two of us are _so_ ancient.”

            The young waiter returned with their waters, and to his credit the lad did his best to keep both eyes above the neck. _‘Better than I would have been at that age.’_ Kyle mused to himself. “I’ll just take the house cheeseburger. You?”

            Finger poised on her chin and neck craned downward, Margaret stared intently at the menu. “Do you have anything… less greasy?”

            The waiter seemed to stiffen at the question, but recovered quickly. “The goat-cheese salad is very good, ma’am, especially if you like fruit.”

            “I’ll take that, then.” She handed her menu to the waiter as Kyle did the same. “So I’ve been blabbing up a storm, but what about you, Kyle? What do you do for a living?”

            As the waiter left for the kitchen with their order, the young magus glanced back at Margaret. “Something of an archaeologist, really. My professor and I are doing excavation work on the area around Fort Maple.” Not entirely a lie, given his on and off work for the Clock Tower’s Department of Archaeology.

            Margaret’s eyes lit up. “An academic, then? And a man of history too! How wonderful to hear.” She clapped her hands together. “Any particular period you’re interested in?”

            The woman’s bright eyes and excitement proved too much for Kyle, who glanced out the window rather than risk a blush. _‘Seriously though, what’s wrong with me around this woman? I’m not normally such a damn teenager about these things.’_ He cleared his throat before responding. “The nineteenth century for the most part. The benefactors I work for often have me digging into the lives of people from that period” Also not a lie, even if the “people” he was ordered to look into was mostly just Helena Blavatsky. Even in the face of his greater goals, money was still something he needed to live.

            The conversation only grew more lively from there as Kyle recanted heavily censored versions of his various expeditions for the Clock Tower. The not-a-date was going very well, so Kyle was quite surprised when Lancer spoke to him over their telepathic link. _“Master…”_ she trailed off.

            Kyle allowed his confusion to seep through their link. _“Something the matter, Lancer?”_

            Even in her astralized state, Lancer’s eyes lingered on Margaret. _“Nevermind, Master. It’s nothing.”_

 

-xxx-

 

Day 2, Afternoon

West of Laketon

 

            The sun had already set not thirty minutes prior, and already a fierce blizzard raged around the Servant of the Bow. Atop the hill she stood, eyes trained on Fort Maple to the west, Though a normal human would struggle to see ten feet ahead of them in these conditions, for an Archer-class Servant it was but a mere annoyance. The Servant could clearly make out every detail of the empty fort courtyard. _“Conditions have yet to change, Master.”_ she spoke over the telepathic link.

            _“Understood. Keep watching for now. Kyle and I are going to start sleeping in shifts. If anything happens…”_ Safiya trailed off, leaving the obvious unsaid. If anything happened, Archer would contact the Masters immediately.

            “Sooooo.” Lancer droned from beside her. “My turn, then.” The Servant of the Spear made a dramatic show of looking around, though the blizzard put a damper on the effect. “I spy with my little eye, something red.”

            “My bow. Try harder, Lancer.” Archer shot the beautiful Servant a smirk. “I spy something green. And no, it isn’t the foliage.”

            “Something green, eh? Your dress.” A shake of the head. “Damn. My hair?” Another shake. “Your hair? Wait really, neither of our hair? This is a tough one…”

            The Servant of the Bow shook her head in disbelief, though her eyes never left the fort. “Scouting is long and boring. What in the name of Artemis would we do if I _didn’t_ make this game at least somewhat of a challenge?”

            The beautiful Lancer responded with a nod of her head. “Good point! In that case, I guess…” Lancer did her best, straining her eyes against the barrage of snow. After hardly even a minute, she groaned in irritation. “Something green in the middle of a damn blizzard? That should be easier to find!”

            The Chaste Huntress rolled her eyes, pointing towards a row of houses barely visible to the ancient Babylonian. “Third house from the right has some roses planted on a windowsill. Their leaves were the target.”

            The blizzard’s gales reigned supreme in the ensuing silence, before the beautiful Servant let out a cry of indignation. “Cheating damn Archer and your gods-forsaken Clairvoyance! I’ll wipe that smirk off your face!” Lancer huffed, scanning the surroundings. She stiffened suddenly. “I spy with my little eye-”

            “I see her.” the Chaste Huntress replied, cocking an arrow on her bowstring. Someone, a thirty-something brunette, had wandered into the previously empty fort courtyard. Someone with very visible Command Spells on her hand. _“Master, I’ve spotted Caster’s Master in the courtyard.”_

            Several choice curses flowed back over their telepathic link as Archer felt the tell-tale tingling of her Master looking through their Servant’s eyes. _“Just… out in the open during a snowstorm? Without gloves and so soon after we got here? That’s awfully suspicious. Kyle thinks so too, though he doesn’t have as good of a view through Lancer.”_

            _“Almost like we’re being baited.”_ the Chaste Huntress sent, before repeating the statement aloud for the benefit of Lancer.

            The aforementioned Servant rolled her eyes. “I’m an adorable ditz, not stupid.”

            Laughing quietly, Archer felt some of the tense atmosphere lift at the Divine Harlot’s joke. _‘No doubt intentional, what with all of her experience as a diplomat.’_ The Chaste Huntress lined up an arrow on the supposed Master of Caster. _“I can take the shot anytime, Master. It’s your call.”_

            Beside her, Lancer had already summoned her chains. “We’re dealing with a Caster and her magus Master. I’m not saying we couldn’t take the Master out here and now, but consider the consequences.”

            _“My arrows are powerful enough to penetrate most forms of Bounded Fields.”_ Archer spoke both aloud to Lancer and over the mental link. _“Even if she has defenses set up, I’m confident I could hit her Master.”_

            The Divine Harlot nodded in response, whereas silence was the only answer from the mental link. No doubt as her Master discussed the issue with her former protege. “I can’t say I’m on board with this plan; it feels far too much like we’re being played.” Lancer weighed in.

            The feline Archer’s ears twitched. “And if it isn’t? We’ll likely never get another opportunity like this.”

            A shrug was all she received in response as Safiya’s voice once again rang across their telepathic link. _“One shot, alright Archer? If things go south, I want the both of you to make yourselves scarce.”_

 _“Of course, Master.”_ With no further deliberation, the arrow was loosed. The two Servants watched as it soared along its flight path. In less than three seconds it had reached the fortress, and slight flashes of prana lit up the night as her arrow drilled through Caster’s Bounded Fields. In less than another second, it had reached the figure of Caster’s Master.

            Which shattered like glass to the arrow’s might. Dark energy began to convalesce and form into an offensive spell an instant later. Archer swore. “Trap seems to be the right of it. Move!”

            Leaping apart, they narrowly avoided the beam of dark prana blowing apart the hilltop with a shower of molten stone and smoldering dirt, ozone singeing Archer’s nostrils. _‘Apologies, Master. I don’t think you’ll be going on anymore picnics here anytime soon.’_ Landing atop the branch of a particularly tall tree, the Chaste Huntress hastened to get a view on Fort Maple.

            _“Atalanta! Look out!”_ was all Archer heard from her Master before a bone-curdling roar deafened all.

            She looked up just in time to see the form of an impossibly chiseled and tall man rocketing towards her, eyes mad with rage.

 

-xxx-

 

            _“Lancer! Archer needs your help ASAP.”_

            _“Yeah, we have a bit of a problem with that, Master.”_ Lancer banked hard to the left, and the Chains of Heaven shot out to intercept the infrared homing missile, blowing it up in midair. _“Caster seems to have brought a third unwelcome guest to the party.”_

            Bringing herself back up to near-supersonic speeds, Lancer shot through the air in the direction of Archer’s spiritual signature. She didn’t get very far before the jet fighter hot on her heels overtook her, pulling off an impossible maneuver in midair and spinning to face her, rotary cannons firing.

            Lancer hissed as one round found its mark, taking out a chunk of flesh on her leg that would have debilitated a normal human. She muttered a quick healing spell to staunch the bleeding, but she’d need to treat it more thoroughly after the battle. _‘Ishtar’s ugly mug, that smarts!’_

            She felt the now-familiar sensation of Kyle looking through her eyes. _“A modern jet fighter? What kind of Heroic Spirit uses a modern jet fighter?”_ Her Master’s palpable agitation was evident, seeping through the telepathic link.

            Chains sparked in the night sky as they intercepted cannon rounds, sending the heavy bullets plummeting to the ground far below. _“Beats me, Master, and I have the benefit of the Throne’s knowledge.”_ The Divine Harlot chanted another spell, and gold cuneiform was cast into existence. A golden beam of prana erupted towards the aircraft only to be deftly dodged by whomever was piloting. _“That thing has to be their Noble Phantasm, its mystery is far too potent not to be. I’m going to go out on a limb and say-”_ Several more cuneiform orbs appeared around Lancer, each firing its own golden beam. The result was the same, with the modern aircraft once again performing aerodynamically impossible maneuvers to dodge each. _“Rider.”_

            _“Oh, really? And here I was thinking it was a Lancer.”_ Her Master’s sarcasm was potent even across the mental link. _“He could try and spear you with the nose of his plane.”_

            _“Har, har. Make fun of my husband when I’m not dodging more projectiles than Ishtar in the guard barracks, please-”_ She shot one of the sharpened ends of Enkidu at the aircraft, swearing aloud when it missed. _“-and-”_ She quickly plummeted under another hail of rotary cannon rounds. _“-thank you!”_

Silence reigned across their mental link as Lancer reinforced her eyes, attempting to see how Archer was doing. Not well, she quickly learned. _“Don’t hurt yourself trying to piece it together, Master. That was-”_

            _“I’m not eight, Lancer. I know what sexual innuendo is. Your joke was just ill-timed and not funny.”_

            Grumbling echoed back across their link as Lancer once more, unsuccessfully, attempted to break free of the aircraft’s figurative cage. _“Everyone’s a critic…”_ Continuing her plummet towards the ground, she halted her descent with her feet almost touching the snow-covered branches. Rocketing along the treeline of conifers, the fighter jet tailed her in hot pursuit. _“You wouldn’t happen to have any spells to help shake this eager lad would you, Master?”_

            _“Afraid not. Even if I had some offensive spells that had the range, you two are moving far too fast for me to keep up with.”_ Kyle responded over the link

            _“Of course you don't. It would be far too conveni-”_ the beautiful Servant’s senses screamed, silencing her retort. _“Are you kidding me right now? Another Servant is approaching, Master.”_

            _“Are we seriously about to get four v. two’d? This entire operation is a disaster!”_

            A pale white falchion, almost a blur to her eyes, shot past the Divine Harlot, slicing cleanly through the jet’s left wing in a shower of sparks, arcing around behind the jet fighter and past Lancer once again…

            And neatly into the hand of an asian man. He grinned beneath his large non la, winking at the beautiful Servant. “Aggressive suitors, am I right?”

 

-xxx-

            Drawing back an arrow, Archer kicked off of the branch as she leveled her aim on the Berserker. Her first thought as to his identity was Heracles, but despite the superficial similarities to her once-comrade, it was obviously not-

            With a roar, Berserker swung the jawbone he wielded, shattering the branch Archer had been perched on less than a moment before. That combined with his ankle-length yet impossibly manicured mane of hair was a dead giveaway.

            Twisting her body, the Chaste Huntress threw herself to the side as Caster’s anti-unit spell tore apart the ground. She scowled at Caster, floating far above. Archer could have easily struck the witch at this short of a range, but doing so would leave her completely open to the mad Servant’s blows.

            Unable to draw her bow on one Servant without giving the other a clear opening. Several choice expletives crossed Atalanta’s mind as she sidestepped the donkey jawbone, only to be nearly vaporized by a beam of pure prana. It was only a matter of time until she made a mistake, and all three Servants, even the mad Israeli judge, understood this quite well.

            _“I didn’t want to have to use this, but if I must…”_ A boar pelt black as the starless sky formed itself in Archer’s grip, and she reached to attach it to her arm. “ _Agrius Meta-_ ”

            Blood and vomit erupted from Atalanta’s lips as Berserker’s bare fist collided with her stomach, catapulting her back and through several trees. Bark and wood chips flew every which way as the Servant’s body felled the conifers, with several sickening crunches as her bones broke.

            Finally lacking the momentum to continue through another true, Archer cried out in pain as her back protested the impact against the tree. In the distance, she saw with unsteady vision Caster destroy the discarded Calydonian Boar pelt with a blast of magical energy, though Archer lacked the strength to even muster outrage.

            _‘I can’t move my legs. Femur is shattered in both.’_ Archer noted through the haze of pain and nausea. _‘And my right arm…’_ Archer averted her eyes from the mangled limb, trying not to think about why she could no longer feel it. A sudden roar caught her attention, and an amount of clarity returned at the sight of Berserker barreling towards her, trampling everything in its path.

            Clawing at the cold, snow-covered earth with her (mostly) inact left hand, her heart sank. _‘The first battle isn’t even over, and I’ve already lost.’_ Tears beaded in her teal eyes. _‘No! I can’t fall here!’_ Fingers burned as she increases the pace of her crawl, Berserker growing ever closer. _‘Have to protect them. Have to protect her kids’_

            Berserker skidded to a halt, jawbone retaining its momentum as it arced towards her skull. _‘I promised her I’d protect them, I’ll… I’ll…”_

            “ _Archer, come!_ ”

            Darkness claimed her.

  

-xxx-

            The Command Spell faded from the back of her hand as Safiya swore loudly, doing her best to staunch the worst of her Servant’s bleeding. She had to hurry; it wouldn’t take Caster long to realize she’d summoned Archer using a Command Spell, and once she did Berserker would descend on her and Kyle as well.

            _‘To say nothing of our current problems.’_ She thought as a burst of Kyle’s fire, fueled by a mist of oil from Firestarter, shot over her head, immolating one of the many homunculi descending upon the Masters, faces expressionless even as their comrades fell around them and greatswords turned red, molten from the oil and prana-fueled heat. “Buy me a bit more time, Kyle! I just need to make sure Archer is fit to move.”

            “‘Fit to move,’ she says.” Kyle shot back. “No offense, Safi, but your Servant looks _dead_.” Flames rose from beneath another homunculi that was a bit too close, its body burning to ashes in mere seconds. “Christ, they just keep coming.”

            “Then call Lancer back! Didn’t that other Servant just take out Rider’s plane?” Safiya tied a tourniquet around Archer’s right arm, before unsheathing the bladed edge of her cane. Prana poured into it, enabling it to harm a Servant. Bone ground and blood splattered across Safiya’s face as she separated the remains of the arm from Archer’s main body. At Kyle’s disgusted look, she suppressed a sigh of irritation. “Servants, Kyle. Her body isn’t fully real. We can just regrow the arm later.”

            “Just dematerialize her, then. That’ll stop the bleeding!”

            Safiya shook her head. “Can’t, her Spiritual Core was cracked while Berserker was going ham. If I astralize Archer, there’s no guarantee she won’t fall apart immediat-” Safiya’s eyes widened. “Above you!”

            A particularly crafty homunculi had climbed one of the conifers, leaping to attack the two magi from above. Kyle swore loudly, bringing his own cane, Firestarter, around and prepping its oil spray mechanism. _‘Too slow! He won’t cast in time.’_

            The world shimmered a kaleidoscope of colors as the homunculi combusted, bits and pieces of flesh raining down around them. A huff of arrogance caught Safiya’s attention. “Honestly,” the newcomer, a raven-haired woman in a red winter coat, began. “I’d like to deride the two of you for utterly bungling your first Servant battle, but I suppose I was no different.”

            Safiya stiffened, as did Kyle a moment later. Both recognized this woman and the dangers she represented. “Rin Tohsaka.” Safiya inclined her back slightly in a slight bow, quite the task with her ageing body and sitting position. “To what do we owe the honor?”

-xxx-

            Sequestered away in makeshift command room of Fort Maple, Sayaka fidgeted impatiently in her chair, pen rhythmically tapping on the edge of the table. Things had been going well for them, and from the looks of things they’d managed to heavily injure Archer as well.

            But of _course_ the mini-lord of the Clock Tower couldn’t leave well enough alone and just had to enter _her_ competition. _‘Like hell! This is my chance to prove myself, and I’ll be damned if I let some eastern hedge-mage steal it from me.’_ The irony of her having such a thought was completely lost on her.

            “Fräulein Sisigou, would you please stop tapping your pen.” the albino Master seated across from Sayaka asked. “It is distracting me from directing Berserker.” Gisela von Einzbern said without a hint of snark, for the newly-born homunculus had no knowledge of such things.

            Anger boiled within her at being ordered around, but the Master of Caster suppressed it. _‘She’s right. Directing the Mad Servant must be a full-time job.’_ She took a deep breath. “Tonight could have ended better.”

            Standing behind his seated Master, the younger Rider brother snorted. “Tonight ended great, all things considered. Archer has been crippled for the near future and your Servant even managed to destroy her Noble Phantasm. I’d call that a minor victory.”

            That was true. None of their Servants were injured severely, and they’d managed to deal a crippling blow to the enemy. Yet that didn’t set Sayaka Sisigou at ease. “Your elder brother managed to escape just fine, but your Noble Phantasm was heavily damaged as well.”

            “Unlike that ancient warrior, my brother and I are mechanics. We’ll have the Flyer repaired within the day. Long before the enemy team has recovered from their own losses. And if the worst does come to pass, our secret weapon is now flight capable.”

            A cleared throat caught the attention of the assembled allies, and the Master of Rider glanced sheepishly between the three of them. “I know I’m not exactly a warrior, but maybe…” Franklin trailed off at their stares, only continuing when Rider put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We got good results from turtling in the fort. Maybe we should continue that for the time being and let them come to us? And that’s without getting into the total antarctic conditions outside right now.”

            The other two Masters were silent as they considered the possibility. Gisela was the first to voice her agreement, empty eyes never ceasing to unnerve Sayaka. “Caster’s Bounded Fields could use some improvement. Even though it was just an illusion that was destroyed, I’d rather we be able to intercept any incoming projectiles before they reach their targets.”

            “I didn’t know you cared so much for my well-being, homunculi.” Sayaka said, skepticism evident in her voice.

            The empty red eyes bored into Sayaka’s own blue pair, and despite her growing unease Sisigou held firm. “Caster is a valuable asset.” She spoke matter of factly. “If you were to die, she would vanish at worst and be greatly diminished at best.”

            “Ah, there’s the Machiavellian princess I know.”

            “Guys, please!” Franklin cut in, interrupting the Einzbern’s response. “We’re all on the same side, here. Bickering will only make us an easier target for the other Masters.”

            As infuriating as it was to admit, the Master of Caster knew the young man was right. Standing, she pushed her chair back under the table. “Caster is back. I’ll help her work out repairs to the Bounded Fields.”

            Gisela did the same, albeit with far more practiced grace. The faintest hint of a smile was on her face as she turned to Franklin. “I can have Berserker help carry the Flyer back for repairs, as well.”

            Sayaka’s teeth ground against one another as she left the room, perhaps shutting the door a tad too hard.


	5. Quiet Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time. Focusing more on SoL this time.

**Monday, January 27, 2020**

**Night 2, Just after midnight**

 

            Archer woke up, and her world was pain.

            The night’s events crashed into the forefront of her mind and she shot upright, gasping as pain shot through her chest and her body protested the action. Atalanta was in a basement she recognized, the same one she’d played with Ryan and Julia in not a day before, still crammed with furniture the family meant to save from the elements. Sensing another person in the room, she turned her head to the stairwell, and spotted Karen leaning against the railing.

            A glare was leveled on the Servant, and Atalanta stiffened as the young Elbrecht scion spoke. “How?” she asked.

            Archer resisted the urge to fidget in her chair. “How?” she repeated, unsure of what Karen meant.

            Wood railing split under the young teen’s grip, startling the Servant. “How in the name of God do you expect me to believe you can protect Mother after that pitiful showing?” the young girl roared, a ferocity in her tone that sent chills down Atalanta’s mending bones.

            A pregnant silence followed before Archer finally spoke. “I’m sorry. I was outnumbered, and-”

            “And your Noble Phantasm was destroyed!” Karen interrupted. “Your Noble Phantasm was destroyed, your Spiritual Core was nearly irreparably damaged, and if Lancer hadn’t gotten lucky with that Saber’s timely intervention, all four of you would be dead right now.” The splintered piece of railing was tossed at the foot of Archer’s bed. “And what the _hell_ would Ryan and Julia do then? What the actual fuck would _I_ do?” As Karen paused to take a deep breath, the Servant of the Bow’s mouth hung slack. “A magus walks with death, I understand that, but the three of us have already lost enough for one life.”

            Footsteps echoed through the cluttered basement as Karen climbed the stairwell back to the surface. Archer expected anger and rage, but the sheer _disappointment_ in Karen’s now-blank stare proved too much for her to handle. “Revert to astral state. At least that way you won’t be as much of a burden on Mother’s prana.”

            The door shut, and Archer’s grip tightened around the bed covers, her lips drawing a thin line. Her eyes glistened in the candlelight, but no tears fell.

 

-xxx-

 

            Zeltretch’s most famous apprentice took a sip of her tea, nodding in approval before she set the cup down on her saucer. “Delicious. I didn’t think the Americans could make tea this well, truth be told.” A polite smile graced her features. “But I guess you aren’t exactly a full-blooded American.”

            Safiya coughed into the sleeve of her coat, trying her best to not glance away from the other mage’s blue eyes. Keeping her cool was taking most of her willpower, and she knew Kyle well enough to know he was barely doing the same. “But my daughter is, and she was the one to prepare the tea. You can’t judge everything by its stereotype.”

            The almost-Lord’s eyebrow cocked, and Safiya immediately regretted bringing up Karen. “I wasn’t aware you had a child. That wasn’t in Clock Tower’s notes…” Rin sighed as she waved her hand dismissively. “Whatever. What you’re hiding from the Lords is none of my business.”

            Kyle cleared his throat, and sharp blue eyes snapped in his direction. “If it’s all the same, Lord Tohsaka-”

            “I’m not a Lord.” Rin snapped.

            “Lady Tohsaka, then. With all do respect, what does someone as distinguished and practiced as yourself want with us?”

            She sighed as she raised her teacup for another sip. “Full disclosure: I was initially going to try and work with Caster and her team. No offense, but they’re a lot better setup than you guys currently are, and Berserker is a monster that would give the one in the Fifth War a run for his money.”

            Safiya was suddenly very aware that Lancer was no longer in the room with them. Their current dwelling, a mud-brick Sumerian-themed house, was her doing, and she’d gone to erect more walls and Bounded Fields around the estate. “What changed?” she asked, cutting straight to the point.

            For a split second, Safiya saw it. Something that both confounded and utterly terrified the ageing magus. A flash of fear in the Tohsaka’s normally implacable expression. “I’ve seen that Caster before in the Fifth War, though she was a Saber then. King Arthur.”

            “King Arthur? A Caster? Wait, ‘she?’” Kyle’s expression looked like it didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.

            “King Arthur was a woman, a Saber in the previous War, and currently resembles the form she took after being corrupted by All the Evils of the World”

            The teacher and her student shared an incredulous look, which Rin noticed. “Don’t worry, it made just as little sense back then. The Fifth War was kind of, pardon my French, a clusterfuck.”

            Finishing her tea, Rin placed the cup back onto the table. “And that brings me to why I’m here. I’m sure as Hell not going to be on a team with that Caster, but with all the alliances being formed I’ll be at a disadvantage without one.”

            “You could easily kill us right now.” Safiya pointed out. “We’re at our weakest, and how do we know you aren’t just going to stab us in the back once we let our guard down?”

            The door opened as Karen came up from the basement, expression sour as she placed a fresh pot of tea on the table before she bowed and left for the yard. Rin thanked the young girl, pouring herself another cup. “I can level the same accusation on you. I’m a powerful enough mage that I could probably kill Lancer in one-on-one combat, even taking into account her A rank Magic Resistance. But against all of you? Not a chance” She reached into her purse and procured a sheet of parchment paper. “I propose a geis. We each agree that until the defeat of Caster, Rider, and Berserker we will not attack each other nor order others to attack each other on our behalf.”

            Safiya and Kyle took a moment to share a look, before the ageing magus responded “I think we can agree to that.” While she didn’t entirely trust the Tohsaka scion, the geis did much to alleviate their fears. And with the amount of firepower she was rumored to bring to bear…

            _‘We just might be able to turn our less-than-stellar performance around.’_

 

-xxx-

 

            Chant finished, another magically reinforced wall rose along the perimeter of Safiya’s modest estate. Wiping her brow despite the raging blizzard and freezing temperature, Lancer moved on to the next section. Though there weren’t likely to be any other battles that night, she wanted to get the basics of her Territory set up before dawn. She was from a much earlier age than Caster, assuming the woman (Tohsaka, if she recalled correctly) was not wrong or lying about the Servant of the Spell being King Arthur. Thus, Lancer’s mysteries and magecraft would be of a much higher quality.

            “Working hard out here?” Saber asked as he materialized, a mischievous glint in his eyes despite having a serene expression. Lancer jumped at his sudden presence. How had she not noticed his-

            “Presence Concealment.” she noted, watching the other Servant with wary eyes. “An odd Skill for a Saber to have.”

            He responded with a shrug, and the snowflakes that had gathered on his Zhiduo scattered in the wind. “What sort of Lancer has Territory Creation?”

            Another section of mud-brick wall rose with a wave of Lancer’s arm, and she walked over to reinforce the section with magecraft, breaking line of sight on Saber. “Touche, but try to avoid that while in our fort. I wouldn’t want one of my traps to kill an ally, after all.” She flashed the other Servant a wink and a smile as she visibly relaxed, though a small part of her remained alert to any danger. It wouldn’t do to be surprised twice in one day. “It’s still something to think about, though. Why we’re both unusual.”

            There was a rush of air as Saber lept atop the wall as she worked. He swung his legs over the inside edge of the wall and leaned his head back, ignoring the sigh of exasperation from Lancer. “I take it you’ve noticed the abnormalities as well, then?”

            Lancer gave a brief nod as prana flowed through the walls like latticework, reinforcing the structure. She responded as she raised the next section of wall. “I’ve noticed the absolute dismal quality of these Class containers, if that’s what you mean. Honestly, even I’m surprised I was able to qualify for Lancer. Caster should be the only container I fit into.”

            “That’d be Assassin for me, though Saber, while a large stretch, still works.” Saber reached into his pocket for something, but only groaned as his hand came out empty. “Forgot the cigarettes with Rin.” he replied to her questioning glance.

            “An ancient hero with modern vices.” Lancer giggled as she spread another prana latticework. “How quaint.”

            A snowball flew her way from atop the wall, and Lancer made no effort to dodge as it gently broke against her hair. “Oi, I don’t call me old. Makes me feel guilty talking to the bar dames!”

The two shared a laugh at the terrible joke. “If you’re the sleazy old man, I guess that would make me a… cougar? I believe that’s the modern term.” Sensing the prana stream from her Master beginning to strain, she decided it was about time to break for the night. Leaning against her newest section of wall, she produced a granola bar from within her robe.

“Modern cuisine, huh? Something ancient heroes something-something modern vices.”

“Oh, shut up.” Lancer shot back, rolling her eyes as she took a bite. While she didn’t need to eat, every bit of food would restore a little prana.“Back on topic, these Containers are clearly second-rate. While my power doesn’t feel diminished, I don’t feel… quite right. Like wearing an ill-fitting pair of clothes. I’m guessing it’s something similar for you?”

The other Servant nodded in response. “My Class Container feels far too big for me. Sabers are meant to have the best Parameters, yet-” He sighed, leaning back to look up at the cloud-covered sky as snowflakes began to dot his face. “I’m nowhere near what the Class should be.”

A gust of frigid wind blew in from the lake, causing Lancer’s hair to billow in the breeze. She spent a moment in silence as she remarked to herself with grim humor how ominous the whole situation was. “We should tell the Masters.”

Saber shrugged. “They likely already know, but Rin mentioned that the past Grail Wars in the far east have never gone as planned. This could just be par for the course weirdness.”

Finishing her granola bar, Lancer incinerated the cellophane wrapper with a swiftly-chanted spell. “I’m not willing to risk my Master on those odds.”

 

-xxx-

 

With Rin gone to prepare her own shelter and Karen putting her siblings to sleep in the workshop, Safiya and Kyle found themselves alone in Lancer’s hastily-made Sumerian cottage. As she took a sip of the now-lukewarm tea, Safiya tried not to berate Kyle for falling back into his old nervous tick as he tapped away at the table with his index finger. Setting the cup down, she started speaking without preamble. “I’ll not mince words, tonight was a terrible showing and it was almost entirely due to my poor judgement.”

Kyle visibly winced at his old master’s admission of guilt. “Not entirely. I could have used a Command Spell to warp Lancer directly to your Servant, but in the chaos it slipped my mind.”

“In any case, playing the self-deprecation game all night will get us nowhere. Let’s discuss how we’re going to do better in the future.” Safiya sat up straighter as she gave her proclamation, causing Kyle to chuckle.

“‘Do better in the future?’” He echoed. “You’re already giving me flashbacks to the Clock Tower days.”

She rolled her eyes in response. “Well then allow me to complete the stereotypical professor schtick with a ‘you’re never too old to learn something new.’” Safiya and Kyle shared a laugh, before their expressions sobered once again. “We should start with the elephant in the room.”

“Rin Tohsaka.” Kyle began. “Apprentice to Zelretch and likely inheritor of the Second Magic. I’m not too familiar with the specifics of her life, but after the final Fuyuki Heaven’s Feel in ‘oh-four she was put on trial before the Lords, right?”

Safiya nodded. “You would have been too young to remember, but it caused a huge stir in Clock Tower at the time. It’s not everyday that a magus both attains a path to the Root _and_ closes it without entering.”

The last of the tea drunk, the empty cup was placed next to the drained kettle. Safiya made a mental note to clean it before Karen took yet another task upon herself. “Honestly, she probably would have been given a Sealing Designation right then and there if it wasn’t for the Old Man. Aside from that…” She tapped the point of her chin. “Her sister and brother-in-law have membership at the Clock Tower.”

“Emiya, right? I think I’ve met her in passing during some joint-studies Archaeology did with Evocation. Seemed like a nice-enough sort for a magus, but I think we’re getting off-topic.” Kyle slid his own empty cup over to the kettle. “With the geis contract we shouldn’t have anything to worry about as long as the other faction still lives. And while I don’t put too much faith in the grapevine, Tohsaka has a pretty good reputation for not backstabbing allies. Even ones of convenience.” Something rather irregular for a magus of her stature in the Clock Tower, given the reputation it had for cutthroat politics.

“So we can trust Tohsaka to, at the very least, not kill us the second our geis expires? I’ll take your word for it, but don’t blame me if I set up a few contingencies.” Safiya paused as Kyle began to stand, only to stumble. She shot to her feet, righting her once-protege. His skin was abnormally warm, almost feverish. “Easy there. Prana exhaustion?”

A slow nod and a wince told her all she needed to know before Kyle even began to speak, but she listened anyway. “Lancer’s been working on the wall nonstop for the past few hours. I’m more surprised it took this long to catch up with me.” As Safiya opened her mouth to respond, Kyle interrupted. “Yes, _Mom_ , I made sure she sensed the strain and stopped working. We’ll pick up in the morning once I’ve had a large meal and some sleep.”

A whack on the head met Kyle’s snark, but he only chuckled. Safiya rolled her eyes. “With you around again, it really is like my prodigal son has come home.”

           

-xxx-

 

            After helping Kyle to his bedroom in the cottage, Safiya felt a pang of loss as she returned to the dining room. The wreckage of her home for the past several years was gone, assimilated into the structure of the cottage by Lancer. It was necessary, especially to give them a functional base of operations above her workshop, but it stung on a sentimental level. She could only hope her kids would adapt to it after the War ended.

            _“Master.”_ the voice of Archer spoke into her mind, and Safiya did well to hide her sudden start as the astralized presence of her Servant came to rest next to her. _“I… I humbly apologize for my performance tonight. It was horrendous and an affront to you and your childr-”_

            _“Atalanta.”_ Safiya interrupted. _“How are your wounds? I did my best to patch up your Core, but I’ve never been much of a healer.”_

            Silence descended over their telepathic link as Archer chose her next words. _“I got lucky. My Spiritual Core was one scratch and scrape away from breaking, and I’ll likely need another day or two fully repair the damage.”_

            _“Well we should thank all of our lucky stars, then.”_ Safiya walked to her own bedroom, not at all surprised to see Karen already fast asleep on her mother’s bed. “She’s such a child sometimes…” the ageing magus whispered to herself. _“Agrius Metamorphosis’ loss will hurt, but Phoebus Catastrophe was always your main workhorse. Don’t stress yourself over it, alright?”_ She sighed, taking a seat on the rather uncomfortable sofa. She made a mental note to retrieve her own from the basement. Lancer meant well but magecraft, however ancient, was no substitute for a skilled craftsman. _“Look, Archer. I won’t mince words. You didn’t do your best tonight, but neither did I, and this entire operation went south due to a decision_ I _made, not you. Kyle and I have already agreed to put the self-deprecation behind us, so I’ll extend that agreement to you as well.”_

            _“But Master, I-”_

_“Atalanta.”_ Safiya leveled a glare on the air where she knew Archer was. _“I can’t have you doubting yourself right now. That’ll set all of us up for failure.”_

If Archer had a physical lip to bite, she would have done so. _“Understood, Master.”_

The ageing magus moved to the bed, laying down beside her daughter. Stroking the teen’s hair with a motherly smile, she spoke one final time. _“Good. Now go back to the basement. I have a Bounded Field set up to keep prana in, so it’ll be a nice little hospital for you.”_ She closed her eyes. _“Good night, Archer.”_

A torrent of emotions still brewing within her, Archer bade her own farewell.

 

-xxx-

**Fort Maple, Laketon**

Franklin Belrose ignored his aching eyes and took a sip of cold coffee, left hand still wrenching a bolt into place. He’d not yet adapted to the nighttime schedule of the Grail War, and paid the price for such a mistake with immeasurable fatigue.

“What are you working on?” The suddenness with which the Einzbern spoke startled Franklin from his worker’s trance. He hadn’t even noticed her walk into his workshop.

He forced a small smile through the haze of exhaustion. “Oh, uh, hey Gisela. Didn’t see you walk in.” He gave a pathetic wave, which reached his mouth at her blank stare. Coughing into it, he turned back to the gadget, a Mystic Code of its own right that far-surpassed many possessed by his peers. “I noticed that Caster’s original designs lacked much in the way of missile defense. As Archer survived, I figured we should make sure one of us doesn’t get sniped.”

The young homunculus leaned over beside him, looking at a fist-sized red gem resting on the workbench. _‘T-too close!’_ he thought, doing his best to play their sudden proximity cool.

With the same monotone voice as always, Gisela replied. “Archers are known to have powerful Noble Phantasms as well, and we would be foolish to assume whatever that pelt was to be an _Archer’s_ only Phantasm. This will do well as an extra layer of defense beyond Caster’s Bounded Fields.”

As she reached out to touch the gem, Franklin’s hand shot out, closing around her wrist. When her blank stare leveled on him, Franklin just as quickly released it, scratching the back of his head. “You, uh, don’t want to touch that with bare hands. It might react violently to your Od.”

She nodded, and to his immense relief retracted her hand without question. “Apologies, Belrose. What is it?” As she jumped from an apology straight to another question, Franklin’s train of thought struggled for a moment to catch up.

“A light refraction Mystic Code. You won't see the beams as they’re, well, light, but they can intercept projectiles at light speed. Far faster than Servants can launch them.”

Another nod from the albino, and she pushed a wayward strand of snow-white hair from her face. “Why do we not use it as a normal weapon, then? It sounds potent.”

“Short-range, I’m afraid.” His earlier nervousness melted away as he eased into a speech he’d already been practicing to give their alliance in the morning. “The light disperses as it grows farther away from the source of its mystery. We’d have to be in figurative knife-fighting range for it to be any use in combat, but with all the other toys we have… it’s not really that big of a drawback. Caster’s Skill is really something fantastic to let the Riders and I create and operate these ancient-tier mysteries.” Franklin placed the wrench on the workbench, only to swear as he dropped it nowhere near the metal surface and it clanged loudly against the concrete.

            A feeling of discomfort fell over Franklin as Gisela’s expressionless eyes bored into him. “Belrose, you appear to be fatigued. When was the last time you slept?” Hearing the word “sleep” said aloud brought back the exhaustion in full force.

            As he attempted to blink the sudden dryness out of his eyes, he scratched the back of his head. “Ah… prolly Friday night?”

            He shivered as Gisela’s cold hand wrapped around his. “You’ve been up for at least forty-eight hours. You need to sleep before you make a mistake, and with high-mystery Mystic Codes like that gem a mistake could cause a highly destructive detonation.” With the augmented strength that the Einzbern homunculus were known for, she pulled him to the nearby sofa. It was a ratty old thing taken from Franklin’s previous workshop, and despite its appearance and dishevelment he couldn’t bear to part with it.

            As he took a seat on the sofa, an idle thought passed through his mind. _‘No way, that’s something out of a crappy romcom. It’d never happen in real life.’_

            Gisela took a seat beside him, and patted her lap expectantly. “I was told that a past homunculi used to do this. A ‘lap pillow,’ I believe Grandfather called it.”

            His brain crashed like an old computer, and scattered remnants of thoughts floated through his mind as it attempted to reboot: _‘Is this really happening?,’_ _‘Is she going to shank me or something as soon as I lay down?,’_ and _‘By the Swirl, why the Hell is Jubastacheit teaching his homunculi about lap pillows?’_

            Any response was, however, interrupted by the door swinging open. Sayaka stood in the doorway, glaring daggers at the Einzbern. “Caster needs to check on your treatment.” she said in a flat tone that somehow mustered more vitriol than Franklin had ever seen from her before.

            Gisela nodded, standing and dusting off her long skirt. “Apologies, Belrose, but it seems I must go.” she turned to the man, bowing slightly.

            “A-ah, no no don’t worry about it. “ He took a second to calm his wired nerves and smiled as he spoke again. “Your boons were far more extensive than the rest of ours. It only makes sense you’d need follow-ups.” At her apprehensive expression he quickly added, “And I’ll go get some sleep right now. I promise.”

            The Einzbern nodded once again, expression still stoic as always. Franklin idly wondered if she was capable of any other expressive actions. “Very well. We’ll continue some other time.” She moved past an absolutely livid Sayaka, and with a slammed door Franklin was once again in his workshop.

            _“Quite the ladies man isn’t he, Wilbur?”_ A mocking voice spoke in his mind, barely holding back telepathic laughter.

            _“He would be if he knew how to handle them, dear brother! Rule One of managing your ladies is never letting them meet. Tsk tsk tsk.”_

            Fatigue finally got the better of him, and Franklin began to drift off on the couch despite the Riders’ prodding. “Fuck you guys.” he whispered aloud, grin plastered on his face as he fell into a deep sleep.

            That night he dreamt of windy fields.


End file.
